


Outside The Lines

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 72,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape is willing to do <i>anything</i> to be free of the Dark Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside The Lines

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I know these characters and this world belongs to JK Rowling, and that I am using them without permission. I'm not making any money on my writings. And really, Snape adjusts pretty quickly.
> 
> **Note 1:** This was written for [**painless_j**](http://painless-j.livejournal.com/)'s and [**regan_v**](http://regan-v.livejournal.com/)'s Snape is straight challenge, which was issued in May of 2005.
> 
> **Note 2:** Thanks so much to Smara, Jody, Snakeling, and espeically to Beth H for above and beyond story beta. And thanks to Marcelle for her usual fabulous edit. Any mistakes after that are my own.
> 
> * * *

_"To love is not to look at one another, but to look together in the same direction"  
_ \--Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  


Prologue

"Harry, I've found a spell," Hermione whispered, pulling him aside when he would have gone into the Great Hall for lunch.

Since they had returned to school, after months of searching for and destroying Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes, Hermione had been searching for a spell that would release and control Harry's dormant power. A thrill raced through him that she'd finally succeeded. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" Ron said, appearing right next to them. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezing slightly.

Both he and Hermione started.

"Don't do that," Hermione complained. But she was trying not to smile.

Ron looked down at her and Harry. He'd gained a lot of height over the summer and autumn, and now towered over them. "Sorry. It's automatic now."

In constant danger, they all had learned to move silently out of necessity, but Ron could move like a shadow.

"Hermione, what have you found?" Harry could hardly wait to hear.

"Not here." Hermione made a point of looking around. Everyone was streaming into the Hall, seemingly not paying them any mind.

But Harry knew only too well that looks could be deceiving. "When? After lunch? We could take a walk around the lake."

Hermione shook her head, tendrils of her tied-back hair escaping their bonds and fluttering around her face. "No. I can't until after three."

"Don't you have a free period after lunch?" Ron asked, frowning. He pushed his over-long hair out of his face.

Surprisingly, Hermione blushed. "Yes. But I'm meeting Malfoy --"

"--Malfoy!" Ron's face was red, too. "Why --"

"You know very well that he and I are working on an Arithmancy project together." She squared her shoulders and scowled at Ron, as if daring him to argue.

Neither he nor Ron would do that. They had all been very grateful that McGonagall had allowed them to return for the winter term. Unsurprisingly, Hermione had been frantic about catching up and preparing for her NEWTs. So much so, that she'd agreed to work with Malfoy in several of her classes.

From what she'd said to him and Ron, Malfoy was less belligerent and much more studious than in previous years. That, after the trauma of the last year, Malfoy had matured. Harry hadn't seen it, of course since Malfoy still found it necessary to annoy him at every opportunity.

"Okay," Harry said. "Do you want to take a walk at three?"

"Fine," she said as the students going into the Great Hall started to thin out. "We should go into lunch."

* * *

  
"Okay, so what?" Ron said, as they reached the far side of the lake. Despite how much they had all matured over the last year, there were some things that never changed and Ron's impatience was one of them.

Harry didn't mind. Without both of them, he'd never have been able to accomplish his tasks. He was more than grateful for them and their unflagging support.

"As I told you, I've found a spell." Hermione should have sounded more...positive or something.

"Great. But why did we need to come all the way out here for you to say that?" Harry looked Hermione and then shared a quick smile with Ron.

"It's not an ordinary spell --"

"Of course not," Ron cut in, his smile fading. "Or we wouldn't have needed you to find it."

She met Harry's eyes. "It's a sex magic spell."

"Bloody Hell!" Ron burst out.

Clearly Ron hadn't been expecting that, but then, neither was Harry. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. "Okay, how exactly is sex going to give me enough control over my power to defeat Voldemort?"

"When the spell is invoked, your dormant power will be released and you'll borrow the control from your partner to manage it." She looked right at him, her gaze unwavering. "There are tests to see who will fit best --"

Ron snorted. "That is such a bad choice of words."

"Oh, grow up, Ronald! This is serious." Hermione's words were sharp, but her look was a bit more tolerant.

The few weeks Ron and Hermione had been together as a couple had been filled with bitter arguments. Harry had been terrified they would destroy not only their relationship with each other, but also his relationship with each of them. Thankfully, they had realized what they were doing before it was too late. Despite their aborted romantic relationship, they had managed to remain good friends, for which Harry was extremely grateful.

Hermione turned to look at Harry and sighed, heavily. "I hope you realize that your partner won't be a student."

"I suppose that makes sense. Tell me the rest of it." Harry ignored the nagging in his mind about who it might be. He'd deal with it when he had to. To defeat Voldemort, he could and would bed anyone. It wasn't as if he were a blushing innocent.

After he'd broken up with Ginny, which still gave him a pang to think about, he'd ended up losing his virginity to her older brother, Charlie. During the weeks before and after Bill's wedding, he'd learned a fabulous amount about how good sex could be with an older, more experienced lover. He liked Charlie a lot, but he hadn't loved him. To Harry's mind, that made him safe.

Unfortunately, Ginny hadn't seen it that way. She'd been quite annoyed with him and had started dating someone else as soon as school started.

Harry understood, or at least he tried to. He'd gone on dating boys, with the thought that he wouldn't get so involved. That hadn't worked out as he'd hoped, either.

"This is an old spell, probably from the time of the Founders. It was initially used to tap the power of a landholding wizard's children for defense. Then, as now, a wizard or witch did not come into their full power until they were in their late twenties or early thirties. With this spell, they would be married usually as a teenager, to someone older and with more control, but less power. The child would then absorb their spouse's control as their dormant power was released." Hermione was in full-blown lecture mode. Something that usually irritated Harry, but this time he was grateful for the information.

"Harry doesn't have to marry the person, does he?" Ron looked horrified at the thought of that.

Even if he did want a family some day, Harry wasn't ready for it now. "How long can the spell be sustained?"

"No. You don't have to marry your partner." Hermione was silent for a moment, thinking. "And the spell can be maintained indefinitely. That's probably why they married. They needed to keep up the defense for long periods of time."

"Eventually, they -- the heirs -- learned to control their magic themselves, right?" Harry hated to think about being dependant on someone else for his control for the rest of his life.

"Yes, but it requires practice. Just like it would under any other circumstances."

"It sounds kind of mercenary. I mean sacrificing your children for their power." Ron's tone was disapproving.

"It was for the good of the family. Everyone usually lived together in large, multi-generational, family groups back then," Hermione explained. "Actually, it wasn't that bad. The child is the one in control of the sex magic. They initiate it. They are the one who is dominant in the sex act, too."

Ron shook his head, his expression confused. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, why would Harry be dominant, when he's the one who needs the control?"

"He is taking and his partner is giving. He must be in control to do so." It sounded like it made perfect sense to her.

"So whoever it is has to submit to me?" There was some part of Harry that liked that idea a lot.

"Submit and enjoy it. Though I think submission is the wrong word, really." Hermione's brow creased. "I think that it's more about letting you lead, rather than submitting to you."

"But I would be in charge with another man?" Which was good, since Harry had a few issues with being on the bottom that had very little to do with the pleasure of it.

"You have to lead, but if you wanted to be penetrated, you could probably top from the bottom," she said quite matter-of-factly.

Harry wondered how she knew so much about gay sex. "I think I'll just top from the top, thanks."

Ron laughed at that. "How does the spell work?"

"The spell is evoked over five nights --"

Harry gulped. He might have been able to do it once with almost anyone, but, "Five times?"

"It's a slow transfer. To give you time to adjust to the release of your power and absorb the control you need. It doesn't say that you should, but I think you should practice control as your power is released."

"That makes sense. Where did you find this? In the Restricted Section?" Ron asked.

"Please. There is nothing like that in the school library. I found a couple of references to it in the adult section of Flourish &amp; Blotts." Hermione had that superior look on her face again.

The one that always made Harry want to laugh. He controlled himself, knowing it would annoy her. "How did you get in there?"

"It's not like it is here at school. I'm of age and I have the galleons. They had just received a shipment in from an estate sale and I got to it first."

"Where did you get the money for it?" Ron asked. They all knew that it took a lot of galleons to buy those kinds of books.

"I used some of the money in the account that you set up for expenses when we were hunting the Horcruxes. I didn't think you'd mind. Do you?" She didn't seem overly concerned.

Harry shook his head, pleased that she'd thought of it. He'd nearly forgot about that account. "You know it was there for all of us to use. This was important."

"Okay, so you found this spell. Have you told anyone else?" Ron asked.

"No. I don't want to tell too many people about it. The spell borders on...Dark magic."

"All sex magic does, doesn't it?" Harry thought that it was a good idea not to mention it to anyone they didn't have to tell. "Um...How is the person going to be picked?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that was my next question."

"As I said, there are a series of tests that need to be performed. I'm going to ask Shacklebolt to test the members of the Order. I think he can do it without letting anyone know what the tests are for."

"That sounds like a good idea to me." Harry would prefer that as few people knew about this as possible.

"Ugh...that could be anyone." Ron looked a little sick. "It could be my parents."

Harry's heart sank. The idea that he might have to...no, he wasn't going to think about that. It wouldn't be either of them. "Do you think Shacklebolt is going to go for it? I mean, what if he balks?"

"He won't. I think everyone is getting a bit desperate. We've had so many attacks since Christmas. Scrimgeour is desperate to do something," Hermione said, sounding sad.

Harry shuddered. So many of his classmates had suffered losses. "I hate this waiting around, not being able to do anything."

"It's not like we're not doing anything -- we're still catching up from missing the first term." Hermione never forgot how far behind they had been and she never let them forget either.

"If we don't do something about Voldemort, everything else will be for nothing." Ron's expression was still intense.

"With this, Harry will have his chance. And the good thing is that your power and control will last several days and then fade back to normal."

"I'm not sure that's so good," Ron said. "I mean, why would you want it to fade back."

"So that I can have a normal life, maybe?" Harry didn't want his power to become dominant without knowing how to use it. The potential for disaster was enormous. It scared the bloody hell out of him.

Hermione nodded. "If you want the power and control to continue past that point, you need only have sex a couple of times a week."

"Yeah, but who is it going to be?" Ron hadn't lost that slightly green look. He had to be thinking of some of the more unpleasant possibilities.

"I think I'll deal with that when it happens. Let's not talk about it, now." But Harry knew he'd do whatever he had to so that Voldemort was destroyed. If that meant having sex with someone he didn't want to sleep with, so be it.

"We need to get back up to school, too." Hermione nodded to them as she started back towards the school.

He and Ron looked at each other and followed her.

* * *

  


Part 1

Snape's robes swept across the floor as he stalked back and forth, his steps more than the width of the Room of Requirement should have allowed. There was some part of his brain that knew that the room was accommodating itself to his need to pace, but mostly he avoided thinking about it. He also avoided looking at either the cheerily burning fireplace or the canopied bed in the corner. As a matter of fact, he was trying hard to convince himself this wasn't happening at all.

Of all the awful things he'd been required to do in his life, this was...perhaps not the most awful, but it had to be near the top of the list. His insides clenched around themselves. The calming draught he'd brewed to extra strength could only do so much against the hideousness of what he had to do. Snape shuddered and turned to go in the other direction.

A noise sounded in the hallway and he jumped, a gasp escaping his best effort to control it. It would not do for him to show fear. And he knew he must reek of it.

He shook his head in disgust. What was the matter with him? Oh, wait, he knew. He was about to have sex with a student.

A male student.

His least favorite male student. Not that any student, male or otherwise would have been acceptable. As was true with so many things in his life, the entire situation was less than acceptable.

He hated that damned know-it-all. Why had she taken it into her bushy head to find a spell to help Potter?

As much as he wanted to ignore the answer, he couldn't. People were dying, of that Snape was too well aware. And Potter needed to lead the offensive to defeat the Dark Lord. But while Potter had the dormant power necessary, if he were to have any chance in hell, he desperately needed the control that this spell afforded him. Even if that spell was sex magic.

The Order and its de facto head, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had deemed it light enough to allow its use. But they all knew that even the Darkest of Arts could be allowed for Potter. Snape rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tension in his upper back.

It would only be the five times.

It would only occur under these circumstances.

They would use the Room of Requirement, when all the students had gone home for the Spring Holiday. No one need know beyond the participants. It was better that way, more secure.

There had been several tests to judge which kind of magic most closely resembled Potter's. Snape, unfortunately, matched him quite closely. Closer than any of the other witches or wizards of the Order. Had it been possible, Snape would have foisted this duty onto anyone else he could have managed. The only other person who had come close, had surprisingly been Molly Weasley and her magic wasn't nearly as powerful as his. Beyond that, she was a much less acceptable choice to Potter than he had been.

The door opened and Potter came in. Snape breathed out sharply, hoping that if he didn't open his eyes, this wouldn't happen.

"Professor?" Potter's tone was tentative and reserved enough that Snape knew he had to look at him.

Potter looked scared to death. Snape wondered if he'd bothered taking the calming draught himself. It would be just like him not to have done. The boy was too stupid to know what was good for him. "Come inside." Snape couldn't help the sharpness of his tone when speaking to Potter -- it was automatic. And in this case, quite necessary to set the emotional tone for this encounter.

Shacklebolt had wrung a promise of not only cooperation from him, but the submissiveness that the spell required. Perhaps submission was the incorrect term, but it was better than saying he had been ordered to be nice to Harry Potter.

Snape's stomach twisted with the ignominy of the situation.

At his scowl, Potter looked ready to take him on, indeed he seemed to draw in breath to do so and Snape would have welcomed the fight. Instead, Potter managed to rein in his annoyance and deflated. "I'm sorry about this --"

"Spare me your misbegotten sympathies." Snape was not in the mood to placate Potter. Given the requirements of the spell, he was the one who should be placated.

"If there were any other way."

"There isn't. We have to do this, so let's just get it over with." Snape's bravado was not going to last long, and from Potter's look, Snape could see he knew it, too.

"Um..."

"Sweet Merlin, you have done this before?" Ginny Weasley not withstanding, there were rumors of Potter's exploits with boys. Snape hoped they were true. It would be so much easier and less humiliating if Potter did not have to be led through this.

"Yes. I have. But...but...I get the feeling that maybe you haven't."

Snape had no intention of allowing that discussion. "What difference does it make? We are required to do this. And I'd rather not spend all night at it."

"Well..." Potter blushed. "We have to do more than do it. We both have to enjoy it."

Snape had not forgotten about that part. He closed his eyes and prayed that this was all a nightmare. That he wasn't going to not only let Potter fuck him, but also smile while Potter did it. He wanted to vomit.

"Do you want to get started, sir?" Potter said, squaring his shoulders in typical Gryffindor fashion.

It occurred to Snape that Potter almost never called him sir. He must be afraid and while that pleased Snape on some level, he could also relate to it. He took a breath and felt a forced calm wash over him. "What do you suggest?"

"We should undress and get into bed and then sort of ...." Potter's blush deepened.

"There is no 'sort of' here. We have to fuck." Snape hoped that saying it baldly would make himself believe it was actually going to happen. All it did was exacerbate his stomach's unrest.

"Yes, sir. More specifically I have to--"

"I know what you have to do, and saying it out loud won't help either of us accomplish the task." Snape shuddered as the physical sensations of nausea got worse.

"Fine. But that doesn't change the fact that we will do it," Potter snapped. He looked like he regretted it. He hadn't moved any closer, Snape was grateful to note.

As he thought it, Potter stepped up to him, and pushed Snape's hair back from his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. Snape was so startled that he froze.

"This isn't going to work very well if you won't let me touch you."

Snape had nothing to say to that. He forced himself to stand still, but he couldn't seem to stop the trembling that had taken over his body.

"You're shaking," Potter said, pointing out the obvious. "I won't hurt you."

"As the spell will fail if you do, I rather think you would be wise not to." Snape could hear the horror in his none-too-steady voice and hated it.

Clearly, so could Potter. He leaned in and pressed his face against Snape's neck, breathing in deeply. "You smell good."

Snape wasn't sure what to say to that. Was a response required? He remained silent and still, but his heart was hammering against his rib cage so hard that it hurt. Merlin, how he hated this. "You needn't lie to me. I--"

"I'm not lying. You do smell good. I was afraid you'd smell like potions' fumes, but you smell like the forest."

"I was brewing floor cleaners for Filch this afternoon." If he'd thought about it, he would have brewed something foul smelling.

Potter nuzzled his neck. "Mmm..."

The warmth of Potter's breath ghosted over his neck and he shivered. It had been too long since a woman had been this close to him.

Using a firm grip, Potter took hold of his chin and turned his head until their eyes met. Keeping eye contact, he leaned up slightly to kiss him. Snape had half-expected either violence or ineptness, and was surprised when neither materialized.

It was a soft kiss. Dry lips touching his. Nothing to panic about yet, Snape told himself. A kiss was just a kiss. In theory at least, the gender of the person doing it didn't matter.

Potter leaned in again, kissing him longer this time and Snape's pulse picked up. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Potter's touch was smooth and soft. It surprised him how nice it felt. Of course, he hadn't been kissed by anyone in so long that he would respond to any kindness that came his way.

Another kiss followed that one and then another. Snape had to admit, at least to himself, that Potter could kiss. He knew just how to draw it out and how to stroke his tongue and how to use his teeth for just the tiniest bit of sharpness.

Too soon, Potter's hand moved to his robes. Snape stiffened and pulled away before he could stop himself.

"Shhh..." Potter murmured, his hands going flat against Snape's chest for a count or two before he started on Snape's buttons.

Shortly, Potter had him divested of his outer robe. Snape shivered.

"Is the room too cold?" Potter's tone was solicitous.

"No." He said nothing else, even though he wanted to rant about the circumstances that put him in the control of one of his students.

He'd related that to Shacklebolt at the top of his lungs, and the blasted man had nodded, agreeing with him in one breath and saying there was no choice in the next. He had the nerve to say that sacrifices had to be made. Except -- except that Snape was the one making the sacrifices. A voice in his head calmly pointed out that he was the one who had also committed the crimes that required it. Viciously, he squelched that voice.

There was no question in his mind that he had to do this. After last summer and his part in Dumbledore's death, he should have been a fugitive. However, McGonagall had had certain knowledge of Dumbledore's plans. She had also managed to relay them to Potter before the idiot could go public with what he knew.

Snape had been grateful not to be a party to that conversation, though he'd heard that Potter had been so actively hostile McGonagall had been required to stun him, and then force him into Dumbledore's Pensieve.

After that, there was still much speculation in The Prophet, but Potter managed to keep his mouth shut. Without a witness to substantiate the rumors, the Ministry had been unable to act.

He and Draco were able to 'escape' the Dark Lord's clutches and return to school relatively unscathed. His place in the Dark Lord's inner circle had been advanced by what happened, even if some of the Death Eaters still didn't trust him.

Potter touched his jaw to get his attention and then leaned in to kiss him again. Almost of their own accord, his lips opened to allow Potter access. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse, Potter's tongue delved into his mouth, clearly trying to coax a response out of Snape.

Despite himself, Snape did respond. Reluctantly. He wouldn't have guessed that Potter would be generous.

They kissed for a time. Potter's tongue explored his mouth, and then coaxed his tongue back to explore Potter's mouth.

Kissing a man was not so different from kissing a woman, Snape decided. It was a bit more...he wasn't sure aggressive was the right word. But there was a firmness to Potter's kiss that was absent with any woman he'd ever kissed. In spite of what he knew he looked like, and what he was sure that Potter thought, he'd actually kissed quite a lot of women in his life.

Once again, Potter's fingers found his buttons and this time, Snape made an effort to allow it. Potter had his shirt unbuttoned and off his shoulders in a matter of seconds. His undershirt soon followed.

Some part of Snape wanted to protest that his clothes should not be dumped so unceremoniously on the floor. But really, what did it matter at this point? He bit back the comment, and tried to focus on what Potter was doing to him.

"Your skin is so white." The way Potter said it did not sound at all like the insult he was expecting. Potter ran his fingertips slowly across his chest.

"What other color would it be?" Snape said, stilling the desire to arch into the touch. He'd always thought his skin resembled nothing so much as the underside of a cod.

"It's such a creamy color. I've always fancied that." Potter smiled and ran a finger along Snape's arm.

He couldn't suppress his shiver. "You needn't lie to me. I know what I look like." If there was one thing that Snape hated, it was useless flattery, especially when it was so blatantly being said to manipulate him.

"You might be a bastard, but you've got nice skin." Potter's tone was insulted.

Although he'd promised not to, Snape sneered at him and said, "Ten points for disrespect."

"You can't take points in here," Potter said, an annoyed look crossing his face.

It gave Snape a savage kind of pleasure to put that look there. "I just did."

"It won't count against Gryffindor."

Maybe not, but it gave Snape the illusion of power. Or it would have, had Potter been at all cowed. The dratted boy didn't seem to know what fear was.

Potter's hands went to his chest, and slowly moved down it, fingers mapping his skin like a blind man trying to learn what he looked like. As much as it annoyed Snape to admit it, the touch felt good. Nice. And again, Potter's touch held no arrogance. No presumption.

Still, it didn't feel quite right. Potter's hands were calloused and hard, not soft as he expected or wanted. Snape wasn't sure he minded that as much as he thought he should have.

When Potter's mouth connected with Snape's neck, he was startled from his reverie and he let out a little gasping breath of pleasure. He would have called it back if he could have.

Potter's inquisitive tongue licked across his sensitized skin and Snape shivered. Again, he would have denied the pleasure, but part of the spell required that he give into it and so he closed his eyes and let it take him away. Potter's lips moved down and he flicked his tongue over Snape's nipple.

Snape sucked in a breath as a spark of fire raced down his spine and into his groin. He hadn't expected to respond, and certainly not like this. What Potter was doing was nothing that hadn't been done before, but it had been women doing it. He'd never responded to it quite like this. Vaguely, Snape wondered if it weren't the calming potion having some kind of effect on him.

Potter's mouth moved on and Snape knew now was not the time to think about it. When Potter's hand's got to the button on his trousers, Potter looked up, asking permission. It was not as if he could refuse, even if he wanted to.

Soon after that, he stood naked before a fully dressed Potter. There should have been something wrong with that. He should have felt vulnerable. Indeed, Snape wondered at his own complacency, but the thought seemed to float away before he could concentrate on it. He could not credit that Potter was looking at him with so much appreciation in his eyes.

"You really do have marvelous skin."

"Potter, I've told you before you don't have to compliment me. I know what I look like. My skin is scarred and pasty white." Even as he said it, Snape was pleased not to be found revolting. He could have dealt with anything Potter had said in the way of insults, and he would have, but some part of him was glad that he didn't have to.

"It's nice and I like it." Potter had that I-dare-you-to-argue-with-me tone down pat.

And it annoyed the hell out of Snape. "Don't get used to it. This won't be happening again --"

Potter met his eyes with a serious expression. "Five nights. We have to do this for five nights."

"I realize that. If all of our information is correct, you'll meet the Dark Lord on the following weekend in Hogsmeade."

Potter's face paled, but he nodded. "I know. Have you told Voldemort I'll be there?"

Snape nodded. "The last time I was called. I told him the Headmistress had given you and Weasley passes to go into Hogsmeade for a few hours on Saturday."

"Me and Ron? Why did you do that? I'd rather not have him at risk." Potter sounded quite worried.

As well he should be, but, unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it. "With Weasley here for the break, how would you explain him not accompanying you? Several teachers will be going with you as well. Everyone out for a bit of a holiday."

Potter seemed to mull that over for a moment. "I guess I can't, but still...."

For some reason that Snape did not wish to examine too closely there was a part of him that wanted to reassure Potter, but it would only be platitudes and Potter, he suspected, knew such things were worthless.

"Right then. Let's get on with it."

A shiver of dread went through Snape. What was he doing? Oh, wait, he did know.

Potter ran a finger along his hip and then back up his chest, to cup his hand at the nape of Snape's neck. He pulled Snape in for another kiss, his hands never stilling as they moved over his naked skin.

After several long moments, Potter pulled back. He met Snape's eyes and moved his hands to his own clothes. It only took him a few minutes to shuck them off, and then he stood before Snape, looking apprehensive, as if he expected Snape to reject him. As if that were ever an option. Snape sighed.

Since it was inevitable anyway, Snape could not resist taking a good look at what would be coming his way.

Over the last year or two, Potter had gained a bit of height. He stood nearly eye-to-eye with Snape. He'd put on some weight as well. His body was young and toned, and Snape could appreciate that, even as he told himself it did nothing for him sexually. That he was aroused had more to do with the breaking of a years-long deficit of contact than who was doing the touching. Still, Potter didn't look bad. For a boy. Man.

When Potter stepped forward and slid his arms around Snape, he settled into the embrace for a moment, the tenderness surprising him. Potter kissed him at length before maneuvering him to the bed that Snape had been steadfastly ignoring.

There was no denying what would happen. Not that he'd thought he'd have a chance to back out. Not unless the Dark Lord dropped dead in the next five minutes. Snape didn't believe in hope and as divine intervention was unlikely, he was going to have to let Potter fuck him.

He shivered again.

"Don't think too hard, sir," Potter said, sympathetically.

"Don't call me 'sir' in bed." Snape could not think of anything more wrong.

The blush on Potter's cheeks said he'd caught the implication. "Um..."

How much and what variety of experience did Potter have, Snape wondered. "If you must use a name, use my given name." He paused, sneering at Potter's flummoxed expression. "If you use it outside of this room or these circumstances, I will hex you. And then take a hundred points."

"Yes, sir... Severus," Potter stammered.

Something about the way he said it slid pleasantly along Snape's nerves. He hated that he liked the sound of Potter saying his name.

"Why don't we lie down?" Potter backed up and moved to lie down on his side.

After Snape had done as he'd asked, Potter rolled on top of him, shifting a moment before finding a comfortable position.

Snape grunted. He wanted to say something nasty, and to push Potter off him. But the boy's naked body did not feel unpleasant, not nearly as much as he would have expected, especially given what was pressing hard and warm against his hip. He shouldn't like this. He was straight, and it made him uncomfortable, but he wasn't horrified and he wasn't unaffected.

"Severus...where are you?" Potter's voice had a note of command and Snape looked up.

"What do you want?"

Potter leaned down and kissed him. "Just that. You seemed far away."

"I'm trying not.... Never mind. Proceed." Snape let out a breath and closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look....

"Relax." Potters' hands stroked across his arms and down his chest.

"As if it were possible," Snape ground out, his patience running suddenly thin. What did Potter want from him?

Potter kissed him again, deeply, his tongue invading Snape's mouth, his hand brushing lightly over Snape's body. After a second's hesitation, when Snape debated the wisdom of it, he kissed back. There was no question that he had to do this, nor any question that he didn't want to, but perhaps he could find some enjoyment in it.

When Potter shifted again, it was to drop his thigh between Snape's and then press intimately into him. Merlin, it felt good. He groaned and pressed back. Lovely, wicked sensations washed over him. He leaned into it. There was certainly pleasure to be had, even if it were Potter doing the giving.

Almost against his will, he arched into Potter's touch. Those callused fingers felt surprisingly good against his skin. It was not a sensation he would have ever thought he'd enjoy, but there was no denying it, at least to himself.

Potter's mouth went to work on his chest again and Snape settled back into the bedding, angling up a bit to allow him better access. Who would have thought that someone as selfish as Potter would turn out to be such a generous lover?

Lover? No, that was not the right word for what Potter was, not in the slightest. Snape didn't have any idea what Potter was or would be to him, but whatever he was, a lover he was not.

As Potter made his way down Snape's torso, he seemed intent on tasting every bit of Snape's flesh along the way. Perhaps Potter did find him appealing for some reason. Snape couldn't believe it, but one never knew with Potter. He was an odd duck.

Snape supposed that it didn't matter. Potter was spending a vast amount of time --

"Ah..." Against his will, Snape let out a lust-filled moan and arched his back as Potter's mouth closed over him without warning. And Merlin, God, and Circe, Potter knew how to suck. How to angle himself to take all of Snape in.

Nearly forgotten pleasure washed over Snape, sending him soaring with it. At that moment, he did not care whose mouth was on him, who was giving him that incredible pleasure. Snape moaned again, thrusting his hips forward, sliding deeper into Potter's throat. Wet heat surrounded him. He knew with what few brain cells were left to him that he was going to come in a matter of seconds.

He cried out loudly enough that some part of him was mortified by the sound he was making. Mostly though, he was too involved with it to care. It had been too long.

It took a couple of seconds for the pleasure haze to lift. When it did, he watched Potter smile down at him. He slid his hands along Snape's thighs, nudging them apart.

Potter kissed him again. "I think it's going to be more comfortable for you from the back."

His stomach twisted and the last of the post-orgasm haze dissipated completely. "It's not going to be comfortable no matter what you do --"

"Oh, there you are so wrong. It can be amazingly pleasurable." And Potter sounded very certain of that.

"So, you've allowed someone to fuck you?" Snape had heard the rumors of the Ravenclaw boy, Luis Fulbright's bragging. Everyone at the school had. He'd taken fifty points from Ravenclaw over the day or two the boy was stupid enough to keep it up, just as all the other teachers had. Ravenclaw got the message. They shut him up after a day of bleeding points. It wasn't that Snape cared about Potter so much as he detested that kind of braggart.

"A couple of times. Yes. The position has some bad connotations associated with it that have more to do with things other than the actual pleasure of it."

After that incident, it was no wonder. Also, from what Snape had read, there could be power issues involved. He bitterly resented that he was forced to give over what little power he had. "Get on with it."

"How?" Potter asked.

It took a moment for Snape to figure out what he meant. And it didn't matter one way or another to him as long as Potter was fast about it, and didn't hurt him any more than necessary. Though it occurred to him that on his belly he wouldn't have to watch Potter's smug face while he did it. With that in mind, he rolled over, trying hard to breathe around the panic that wanted to rise in him. He sincerely hoped that the twisting of his stomach would stop once Potter got on with things.

He couldn't help it, when Potter touched his shoulder, he jumped.

"You've got a mole...." Potter seemed inordinately pleased with that and licked Snape's shoulder where the mole was.

Snape shivered as Potter's tongue swirled around his shoulders and neck. He tried hard to ignore the fingers that were delving in between his arse cheeks. One pressed too intimately against him and it was all he could do not to bolt upright and run for his life.

"Shh.... Let me do this," Potter whispered, his hand caressing the small of Snape's back, moving lower again.

"It is not as though I have a choice." He wanted his freedom. Badly enough to offer his body in exchange for the chance that this boy might win against all odds.

"Of course you do." Potter pulled back and Snape turned his head back to look at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. If we don't do this, you'll never gain the control over your power. Without it, you won't defeat the Dark Lord. And I will have to continue to serve him."

"I'm sorry," Potter said, sounding like he actually meant it, which Snape could not credit.

"Don't be sorry. Just do it." Snape was losing patience with this quite rapidly. He wanted it done and over with.

"Accio lubricant," Potter said in answer.

Subsiding back into the bed, Snape heard the bottle smack into Potter's hand. Snape had brewed it himself, knowing what would be required. There was a bit of a numbing property to it. Hopefully, it would not hurt as badly as he feared it might. So far, Potter had showed himself considerate and that bode well for the state of Snape's arse at the end of the night.

A slick finger pressed into him without warning -- or perhaps he hadn't been paying attention. Either way, he let out a most undignified yelp.

"Okay?" Potter asked, his finger still imbedded where it had gone.

It was not uncomfortable. One of the women of his acquaintance had been quite adept at pleasure with her fingers. He'd quite liked that. Pity she had taken an assignment on the continent. "Fine," Snape said.

Potter did something different, moving his finger. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. It felt odd, full. After a moment or two the feeling became more tolerable.

Eventually, Potter slid another finger into him, and it was all Snape could do not to pull away. That was most uncomfortable. It was, in fact, bordering on pain. Snape breathed out and then in very slowly as Potter worked his fingers, the other hand moving comfortingly along Snape's back.

After another moment, it turned into a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. Snape was not all together sure that he cared for it. Not that it made any difference what he thought. When Potter finally removed his fingers, Snape sighed with relief, even knowing it would be all too short a respite.

A pillow was shoved under his hips and his legs were nudged further apart. Snape had been trying hard not to think about any of it, but as the blunt tip started to breach him, reality struck and panic ensued.

Sweet Merlin, he could not do this. He could not allow anyone to do this to him. He gathered his strength to push Potter off, but it was already too late. Potter had pushed more than halfway into him.

Fuck, it hurt.

Snape took deep breaths and tried to keep himself from screaming as he was nearly split in half. Potter pushed in again and Snape whimpered, "Stop."

Potter froze. "I know it hurts."

"You don't know the half of it. You obviously didn't prepare me properly," Snape wheezed. Breathing hard, and sweating profusely, Snape was a moment away from shrieking at the top of his lungs. "I read that the pain was minimal if the recipient was properly prepared. The pain is _not_ minimal."

"I did the best I could with you paying absolutely no attention. It helps if you're involved with what's going on."

What did Potter expect? Willing participation? As if they were lovers? Snape breathed out, letting himself relax. The worst of the constriction had eased a bit, and Potter slid in a bit more. He grunted, glad the pain was abating enough to think clearly.

"Come up on your knees a bit." Potter pulled his hips up and back.

"Why?" Snape allowed himself to be repositioned.

"So that I can do this," Potter said as he reached under him and took his prick in a slick hand.

That, at least, was pleasurable. It was definitely a counter-point to the pain.

Using his other hand, Potter took hold of Snape's hip and pulled back a short distance. Snape half-hoped that Potter had given up the idea. But no, he slid back in at a slightly different angle. It wasn't comfortable letting Potter move in and out of him this way, but it was tolerable. And Potter's hand was distracting him well enough to meet the requirements of the spell.

Just as the pressure and the pleasure started to peak, Potter hit something inside him that sent a jolt of lightning through him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Snape knew Potter had finally managed to find his prostate and that all the information he'd read and only half-believed was in fact, true. "Do that again!"

Behind him, Potter chuckled. "Right then. Here we go."

Snape didn't care that he sounded smug. What he wanted was for Potter to obey this one command. And whatever his reasons, Potter did continue to stroke into him perfectly, raking across it each time. The pleasure was like none he'd ever known before. But Snape had no thoughts left in his head to consider it. Each time Potter moved in and out, he moaned, pleasure shocking through his system. He pressed back into Potter's thrusts, wanting more even as he felt the pleasure cresting over him.

Blast it all! He didn't want it to be over yet.

He was vaguely aware of Potter chanting the words to the spell, and then Potter was growling out his pleasure and so was he. They both went down in a heap, with Potter's not-insignificant weight on top of him.

Snape thought he must have dozed for a time. He woke up to the pleasurable feeling of being held. When he realized that it was Potter next to him, he didn't want any part of it.

He sat up, dislodging Potter.

"What?" Potter asked, blinking up at him myopically.

"I'm going to return to my quarters."

"It's the middle of the night."

"Actually, it's not that late. Besides which, I have no interest in spending more time in this room or with you than I must." Snape retrieved his clothes from the floor and cast a quick charm to spell the wrinkles out. He started to dress, forcing himself not to think about any of what just happened. Time enough later to do that.

Potter sat up, rubbing his eyes. A slightly hurt look crossed his face, but was gone before Snape could be sure it had been there.

Ignoring it and Potter, Snape slipped into his robe. "Do not mistake this for anything other than what it was."

"No chance of that, Severus."

He knew Potter had used his name to make a point, but Snape wasn't going to answer it. He wanted to be out of this room as quickly as possible. Without another word, or glance at Potter, Snape walked out.

He hurried down the corridor to the safety of his rooms. He felt soiled. A shower was what he needed, Scourgify was simply not going to make him feel clean enough to sleep.

Snape sighed to himself. It hadn't been anywhere near as awful as he'd feared it might be. Potter had been considerate. While he might have climaxed from the sex, that didn't mean he was remotely comfortable with what they had done. No matter what the reason for doing it.

In his bathroom, he stripped, spelling the water as hot as he could make it, hoping that he could scrub the night's activities off his skin.

Finally, clean, he leaned against the shower wall breathing in and out slowly, trying to conjure a fantasy about a woman. Some beautiful, blonde-haired witch who looked good and tasted good and smelled good. But after coming twice in a very short time, there was nothing left in him to give more. His prick twitched a little, letting him know the spirit was willing even if the flesh was weak. That was good enough.

* * *

  


Harry sighed and lifted himself out of bed. He might as well go back to the dorm. Gathering his clothes from the floor, he sighed and put them on.

His half-formed hope that Ron would be asleep was dashed as soon as he opened the portrait and saw Ron reading beside the fire. There were only a handful of students in the whole tower for the spring holiday.

Hermione and Ron had briefly argued over who would stay with him. The increased violence over the last term had both Ron and Hermione's parents expecting them to come home for the break. Ron had insisted on staying. Since Molly and Arthur had been concerned about Harry being there alone, they had reluctantly agreed to allow Ron to stay.

"Harry?" Ron looked up, seemingly surprised to him. "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, let me think. You just had sex with that greasy git. That might have something to do with it," Ron trailed off, blushing.

As much as Harry appreciated Ron's loyalty, he could not talk about Snape in any context right now. "Yeah. And it's done."

"Until tomorrow night, when you've got to do it again."

"Don't remind me."

"Was it that bad?" Ron's tone was sympathetic, as if he expected to be told it had been awful.

But had it been? Harry shook his head. "Not that bad. Just, you know, bloody uncomfortable."

"Sex has never been all that comfortable for me. All those parts fitting together or not. You're worrying about doing it right and if she's enjoying it. Pretty damned awkward, in fact."

That was one of the many things he loved about Ron, he said exactly what he thought. "True. This was more so," Harry said.

Ron peered over at him. "You didn't think it would be any other way, did you?"

"No. Of course not." But Harry knew he was lying. He thought that maybe it would be okay.

"You did, didn't you? Harry, how could you think he'd respond to you? I mean, aside from the fact that he hates you and you hate him, you did know that Snape was straight, right?"

"Straight? No. How do you know that for sure?" Harry had never heard anything, any rumor about Snape one way or another.

"I heard Snape talking to Shacklebolt when it first came out that he was the best match."

"How did you hear that?"

Ron had the grace to blush. "I might have been lurking in a corridor where maybe I shouldn't have been."

"Wearing my cloak?" Not that Harry minded, but he wished Ron had asked. "Maybe the Hufflepuff corridor?"

"Maybe." Ron breathed out, looking relieved that Harry wasn't going to make a fuss.

Harry had other things on his mind. "I should have taken that possibility into account."

Ron stood and stretched. Harry couldn't help but notice the golden brown strip of skin revealed when Ron raised his arms above his head.

As if he knew Harry's thoughts, Ron chuckled. "Like what you see?"

"You are such a flirt." Harry laughed and batted his eyes. "Yeah. You're quite fine. And probably straighter than Snape."

"I am. But you know that I like to flirt," Ron said with a friendly leer.

"Especially with someone safe, huh?" And as far as Harry was concerned, he was as safe as could be.

"You mean you're not interested in me?" Ron knew how to use that crestfallen look to his best advantage.

Harry on the other hand was not fooled for one second. "Give it up, Ron. I know you too well."

As he expected it would, Ron's expression sobered. "So, tell me what happened."

"It was like he wasn't there for most of it. I took Shacklebolt's advice and tried hard to rein back my...aggression with him. I was nice."

"And he was his usual bastard self?" Ron didn't sound like that would surprise him at all.

Harry shook his head. "I think he was trying to be nice, too. Or what passes for it with him. He gave me a calming draught and I'm pretty sure he took it, too."

"That was a good idea," Ron said.

"Yeah. It did help. At least, it helped me."

After a sizable pause, Ron held out a hand for Harry to continue.

"But it was like he wasn't paying attention." Harry didn't want to sound like he was complaining, but really, Snape had made it so much harder on himself.

"I can understand that. When you're not interested in what's going on, but you have to be...I don't know. I think you go some place else in your mind." The amount of understanding in Ron's tone surprised Harry. It was odd that Ron of all people could sympathize with Snape.

"I just wished I could make it good for him." Harry had no idea why it should matter so much. It was Snape after all, but it did matter.

"You don't want to just use him, maybe?" Ron suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah. Sex should be more than that."

Ron laughed, his eyes lighting up. "Harry, you are such a girl."

That prickled, but Harry laughed anyway. "It's just...."

"Yeah. Let's go to bed. This is going to get worse before it's over."

Unfortunately, Harry knew that was true. With a sigh, he followed Ron up the stairs.

* * *

  


Part 2

Harry knocked on the Potions lab door. He heard no answer. When he tried the door, he was surprised that it opened under his hand. Squaring his shoulders, he stuck his head inside and saw that Snape was brewing something.

Snape looked up from his stirring, a scowl forming on his face. "What do you want, Potter?"

Unsure how to approach the subject he actually wanted to talk about and not sure it was a good idea anyway, Harry started with something else. "I was wondering when I was going to be able to practice my control."

"Why would you ask me that?" Snape seemed to be paying only minimal attention as he continued to stir whatever the potion was.

"Because it's your control I'm going to use. Don't you think it would be a good idea if I have some idea how it's going to work?"

For a second, Snape looked like he might explode. "You won't have any more than negligible control today. Come back tomorrow morning."

Stung by the dismissal and not sure why, Harry stood for a moment more.

"Did you want something else?" Snape's tone made it clear that he would not grant any requests.

Harry couldn't help himself, he wanted to know. "Are you straight? I mean, completely so."

That got Snape's attention. He looked up, clearly horrified by the question. "That, of course, is none of your business. And if you had any manners at all, you'd know that."

He wasn't going to let his temper get the better of him. "Well, as I had sex with you last night --"

"You stupid inconsiderate child! I don't know what you hope to accomplish by this display. What part of secret do you not understand? You are not to mention anything that happens in that room outside of it. Ever." Snape's voice was tight and cold, fury radiated off him.

Harry's temper was starting to fray, too. He'd bitten his tongue and tried to be nice, and Snape was being horrid. As usual. "We have to do this."

"You are correct. We must. Therefore, my preferences do not enter into it. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said, his expression turning hard. "And I assure you, these will count."

Harry knew that tone and that he was pushing his luck with Snape, but he did it anyway. "Sir --"

"I will not answer your questions." It was pretty clear Snape was about a second away from exploding all over the place.

Harry hated this and as usual Snape's attitude made no sense to him. "Why not?"

"Because it is none of your bloody business. Ten points more from Gryffindor. Get out. Now. Or I promise you, it will be thirty."

Harry knew when he was beaten. He fled before Snape could do more than simply take points.

* * *

  
After the encounter that morning, Harry was less than sanguine about how well things would go with Snape that night, even with the aid of another calming draught. His heart pounding with dread as he pushed open the door of the Room of Requirement, Harry was prepared for the worst.

Snape was already there, pacing. He looked even more forbidding than he had the night before, which was to say he looked like he might hex Harry if he approached too quickly.

As if he were trying to gentle a wild beast, Harry moved cautiously closer to him. Snape stopped and sighed, saying nothing at all, but some of the menace seemed to ease out of him.

Harry's own apprehension faded a little as he took a deep breath and steadied himself. Slowly, he raised a hand to Snape's jaw, caressing lightly. Snape shuddered under his fingers. Encouraged, Harry nudged him down a bit, and kissed his mouth softly. Harry's eyes drifted shut as the softness and sweetness of the kiss played out on his senses.

His one hope had been to get through this with as little embarrassment to either of them as possible. However, Snape's response had heartened him. Maybe he could make Snape enjoy it more than he had last night. That would please Harry. He wasn't all that hopeful it could be accomplished. Snape, himself, quite likely would not be able to respond more than he had.

Still determined to try, Harry deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing into Snape's mouth. Snape responded by opening his mouth wider, and returning the caress with his own tongue. Harry shuddered. Despite being ugly and hateful, someone, somewhere, had taught Snape how to kiss, and taught him well. He slid his arms around Snape's shoulders, pulling him a little closer.

Snape's fingers tangled in his hair, taking control. Yielding, Harry went with it as Snape's hands moved to his neck and then his back. The strength in the caress aroused him further.

The kisses went on and on. Harry could hardly believe what a pleasure it was to kiss Snape, how much he enjoyed the feel and taste and texture of Snape's mouth. It was delicious. He could go on kissing him this way all night. He angled his head a bit, pulling back to lick at Snape's thin lips, lips that should not feel so soft or so full under his mouth. Just when Harry was ready to lose himself completely in them, Snape pulled back.

"We should move this forward, I think."

"What?" Dazed, Harry just looked at him for a moment. They had been moving forward as far as he could see. He'd liked what they were doing.

"I do not have all night." Snape's tone was as cold as ice water.

Harry could almost feel it splash all over him. "I like to kiss."

"I am not your lover."

"True enough." Harry knew he shouldn't be annoyed, but that didn't stop him from feeling so. He reached for the buttons on Snape's robe. "If you're in such a hurry to be fucked, by all means, let's get a move on, then."

"Potter--" Snape stopped.

Harry sighed, feeling like he should apologize, but not wanting to give Snape any more ammunition than he already had. "Let me do this."

"I've no choice about that, do I?"

"Of course you do."

"The only other option is to allow the Dark Lord to win. That is more unacceptable than what you are about to do to me." Snape's face twisted in a sneer. "This will be over in four more nights. I can put up with anything for that long."

That certainly put Harry in his place, didn't it? He said nothing, continuing to strip Snape of his clothes, surprised to find him completely aroused under them. Maybe there was more going on here than he thought. Harry wasn't going to consider it, now.

He tossed off his own robes and climbed into the big bed. After a moment's hesitation, Snape also got into bed, lying down stiffly on his back.

For a moment, Harry just looked at him. That white creamy skin was so damned inviting, he wanted to touch it. And that brought him up short. Why? Skin was skin. It wasn't soft and it had its share of scars, more than its share of scars, to be truthful. What made it so appealing --

"Any time you wish to start, Potter." Snape sounded both reluctant and impatient at the same time.

Harry would have found that amusing, if he'd been with anyone else. "Just planning my strategy."

"Sweet Merlin. Tell me you are not serious," Snape said coldly, but with an underlying something that Harry thought was probably nerves.

"I'm not serious," Harry assured him.

Best get started, Harry thought, as he took Snape into his arms, already anticipating touching him. He rolled Snape under him, and lifted a hand to caress his face, noticing that Snape's hair was not as greasy as usual. Leaning down, he kissed Snape deeply, and again, instead of resisting or being passive, Snape kissed him back with more enthusiasm than their first kisses.

Harry gave into the kiss again, letting Snape have his way. At least for the moment. Maybe it would make things go better when Harry had to take control as the spell required.

It was hard to remember that he was supposed to be in charge of both their pleasure when Snape was kissing him to distraction. Harry pulled back a little, putting a hand on Snape's face to hold him still. He dropped several short kisses to Snape's mouth before moving on to his neck. As he nipped at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, Snape moaned softly

Harry liked that sound. To give a lover pleasure was to increase his own. Except that Snape wasn't his lover, a voice in his mind pointed out rather sharply. But it didn't matter. Harry _had_ to make sure Snape enjoyed it.

Instead of going straight in for the obvious, as he had done last night, Harry opted for a bit of exploration of all that lovely pale skin. It didn't matter why he liked it, only that he did. And he wanted to taste as much of it as he could.

After a time, Snape made an incoherent whinny sound, conveying his displeasure quite clearly. Harry smiled against his skin. "Soon."

"Now."

"No."

"Potter," Snape ground out through his gritted teeth.

Harry had never had anyone say his name in quite that frustrated, aroused, and pleading a tone before. It sent a shiver of delight through him. He nudged Snape over onto his belly.

"Finally," Snape said, spreading his legs slightly and pressing himself into the bedding. "Get to it."

"Soon," Harry promised again. He wasn't quite ready for the main event yet. Relaxing Snape would go a long way toward making things more pleasurable. Leaning forward, he kissed one of the twin dimples in the small of Snape's back. Snape would probably hex him into next week if he told him that they were utterly adorable, not to mention totally lickable.

He licked along each dimple and Snape squirmed nicely.

"What are you doing?" Snape didn't sound as if he minded, though.

Harry didn't bother to answer him. He spread Snape wide and ran his tongue down from the top of his crease to the bottom.

Snape made a satisfyingly strangled sound and Harry did it again, taking his time.

"Merlin! What are you doing?" Snape sounded out of breath, as if he'd run for miles. That pleased Harry no end. Maybe there was a hope in hell of this working after all.

"I think that's self-evident." Harry repeated the move another time, but instead of pulling back from it, he concentrated on the center, licking and sucking and nipping.

The sounds Snape was making were lovely. They spilled pleasantly across Harry's nerves and egged him on to further, deeper explorations. Snape didn't seem to mind, either.

When Harry was pretty sure Snape was about to come, he pulled back.

"Don't you dare stop, you imbecile," Snape snarled, looking back at him over his shoulder, his eyes flashing.

"Not stopping. Just moving on. Accio lubricant." Harry caught it when it came across the bed.

"I'd much rather you --" Snape stopped and subsided back to the bed.

Maybe he should have let Snape come that way. Too late now. Harry opened the jar, and slicked his fingers.

Snape moved with him as he used his fingers. Harry thought he was enjoying it more than last night. The third finger caused a grunt that Harry recognized as displeasure, but he was pleased to be able to turn it into a moan as he worked it for a bit.

When he sank into Snape, it was all white heat and lovely tightness. He paused to let Snape get his breath back.

"It is still quite painful." Snape's tone was more than a little irritated.

Harry pulled him to all fours. That might make it easier.

"I dislike this position." Snape made no move to pull away. "I am not a brood mare."

Harry couldn't help the snort he gave. "You're not. I'm trying to find a comfortable position for you."

"This will never be comfortable." Snape breathed out loudly and then seemed to relax around him. "Proceed."

Cautiously, Harry moved out a little and then back in. He repeated the move with a slight change in angle. Nothing. Trying it again, and again, he didn't get a response. Harry had to admit he was starting to get a bit frustrated. He reached around and took hold of Snape with a still-slick hand, pumping in time with his thrusts, trying to change the angle slightly after each one.

Finally, Snape gasped. "There."

"Good." Harry nailed it again and was pleased to feel Snape shudder.

"Yes. Again. Harder damn it!" Snape pushed back into his thrusts. "Again!"

Harry was only too happy to oblige him. It felt wonderful to slide in and out of the heat of Snape's body. Having Snape respond so well to it added another dimension to Harry's pleasure.

As he felt the sensations start to crest, Harry remembered to incant the spell. Vaguely, he noticed that it felt stronger than it had last night. He barely got all the words out before his orgasm hit, sending pure pleasure exploding through him. Even nearly insensible with it, Harry managed not to collapse on Snape's back.

* * *

  
Harry entered the common room later that night to find Ron sleeping on the sofa, clearly waiting for him. The thought of going to bed held no interest. He'd never sleep, not with the energy that was pounding through him. Maybe a broom ride?

He tried to move past Ron and go up the stairs. But he wasn't surprised when Ron sat up, none of them slept very deeply anymore.

"Did it go any better tonight?" Ron asked around a yawn.

"Some. I think he enjoyed it more. He--" Harry stopped short, realizing that he could not tell Ron that Snape had been much noisier. He knew Ron was good at keeping secrets, but that was simply too much information.

"Yeah, I get it." Ron seemed to know where the line was. He blushed. "How about you?"

"What about me?" Harry didn't want to get into that, no talking now. "I'm fine."

Ron peered at him across the dim room. "Are you? You look...I don't know...like you're about to jump out of your skin."

That actually wasn't a bad way to describe how Harry was feeling. "Want to go for a broom ride?"

Ron blinked, but did not miss a beat. "Sure. Let me get my cloak." He transfigured his pajamas into something warmer and ran up the stairs, returning with both of their cloaks.

The night was cold, especially for the spring. Harry soared above the pitch, leaving Ron far behind and then diving down, pulling up just short of the ground.

"You're going to miss one day," Ron said, laughing, his cheeks red with the cold.

"No. I won't." Right now, with adrenalin singing in his veins, Harry felt like he could do anything.

"Of course not." Ron zoomed away, clearly inviting him to give chase. A challenge Harry could not ignore.

He sped after Ron, flying hard, the wind in his face. After a while, Ron turned it around and chased Harry. They switched back and forth, chasing each other around the pitch until Harry was exhausted and called a halt. It had been a long day and now he might actually sleep. Wearily, they trudged back to the castle.

Snape stood in the doorway. Both he and Ron froze.

"Do you have an explanation for being out at this hour?" Snape's tone said there was no mercy to be had.

Not that either of them expected it. This was so typically Snape.

"No sir, no excuse." Ron attempted to look contrite, but Harry could have told him that he just couldn't carry it off the way he used to do. And it never worked with Snape, anyway.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said, infusing a note of challenge in his tone. "We went for a ride."

Snape stared at them for a moment more. "Five points from each of you. Now get to bed." He stalked away, leaving both Harry and Ron with their mouths hanging open.

"Okay, so that was truly bizarre." Ron looked after Snape. "I wonder --"

"Don't say it. Please, Ron. Just don't." Harry didn't want to speculate. There were too many problems inherent with that.

"He could have taken fifty points, if he'd wanted." Ron looked back at Harry. "Or he could have simply not let us see him."

"I think he was making a point. Trouble is, I think I missed it." Harry hated Snape sometimes. Most times. Except when he was making love. Having sex, Harry corrected.

"Harry?" Ron sounded worried.

"I'm just tired." Which was true as far as it went. Mostly he just wanted Ron to be reassured that he was okay. And he was. For the moment.

"Will you sleep?"

"I hope so. It's nearly morning and I have to see him right after lunch."

"Merlin, don't you see him enough already?" Ron when through the door.

"Clearly not." Harry followed him back to the dorm.

* * *

  


Part 3

"I do not expect a repeat of last night," Snape said as Harry came into his office so that they could practice control.

Harry blushed. He had wondered if Snape were going to say anything about that. "I didn't think you wanted to talk about --"

"Not that, you foolish boy! Your late night flying escapade with Weasley." Snape's face was red.

"Oh." Harry blushed harder.

"Why were you out there?" Snape's tone had changed slightly.

"I needed something to calm my nerves."

Snape paused, clearly considering whether or not he actually wanted to ask the obvious question. "Why were you nervous?"

"Not nervous, exactly. More jittery. I couldn't sleep." Harry was not sure how he felt that Snape had bothered to ask. It wasn't as if he cared one way or another.

"You could not think of anything less dangerous than flying at break-neck speeds?"

"Afraid I'll hurt myself?" Harry asked, knowing Snape really could not care less.

"I would not have you dead before you've killed the Dark Lord."

"Thanks ever so much. It's nice to know my worth is measured in how well I can kill someone."

"Don't expect sympathy from me, Potter. You asked, I answered. Now, let's begin." Snape's tone was dismissive as he drew out his wand.

"How do I do this?" Harry didn't understand why Snape wanted to make things more difficult than they had to be. Why did he have to make Harry ask for things Snape should just tell him?

"The same way you do any other charm or spell. You should find that things come easier and that you require less concentration." Snape turned his palm up. "Accio Snape's hairbrush." The brush appeared in his hand.

"So?" Harry didn't get it. A forth year could do that.

"So. You will try it," Snape said, as if he were talking to a dimwitted first year.

"You want me to retrieve your hairbrush?

Snape sucked in a breath. "No, you imbecile, retrieve something of your own."

Harry visualized his trunk, and then his comb lying on top. "Accio Harry's comb." It didn't take as long as it normally would have, but it wasn't as quick as when Snape did it.

"Now concentrate on moving it back. Use the Revertuo charm." Snape looked at the brush and said "Revertuo." The brush disappeared.

"Revertuo," Harry said obligingly. Nothing happened. It just figured he'd suck at this.

"Concentrate." Snape's tone was hard as if Harry were not doing this right on purpose.

Harry glared at the comb. "Revertuo." It did disappear. Not only that, Harry had the faint impression that it had appeared back in his trunk where it belonged. "Wow."

"Exactly. Even with your power, you should not have had the control to send it back for another year or two."

"How do I learn all of this stuff? I mean, once I leave school?"

Snape sneered at him. "Simply because you leave school does not mean you cease to learn anything. Most people continue to learn the charms and spells they need in life by living it."

"With no one to teach them? Wouldn't it be so much harder that way?"

"Most people don't require additional assistance. They learn to think for themselves." Snape sighed a long-suffering teacher type sigh. "Call the comb again."

Harry did as he was told and it came more quickly this time. And returned more quickly as well. He liked the feel of his magic doing what he wanted, when he wanted it.

They worked on a few simple spells and charms, basic stuff and then Snape called a halt.

"I don't want to stop," Harry said. "This is interesting. I like how it feels to be in control of everything."

"If you exhaust yourself you will sleep through tonight's requirements."

"I feel fine," Harry argued. But even as he said it, he yawned and realized he was tired.

Harry also realized that aside from a few insults, Snape hadn't yelled at him at all. Maybe it was because Harry had been able to do everything that Snape had asked of him on the first or second try.

* * *

  


Dinner passed too quickly, and all too soon Snape was facing the door to the Room of Requirement. He paused, telling himself the pounding of his heart was something other than anticipation.

Against all odds, Potter had turned out to be both skilled and generous. Snape would never consider him a lover, but he also didn't feel as if he were being used, which, knowing Potter as he did, was what he expected.

That Potter was a man...boy... hadn't mattered at all to his body. That was more disconcerting than the fact that Potter had obviously enjoyed giving pleasure as much as he enjoyed receiving it.

It was too much too think about now. When it was over, when Potter had killed the Dark Lord and freed Snape, then he could consider the implications of it.

Right now, all he truly wanted was to get through the next few hours and then the next few days. Beyond that, he was not going to push his luck.

Potter was standing in the middle of the room when Snape entered it. For one second, he seemed surprised to see Snape. Then he smiled tentatively. "When I got here and you weren't here, I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Highly unlikely." For more reasons than Potter would ever know or understand. Still, Snape could not make himself approach Potter. He stopped beside the fireplace, ostensibly to stoke the fire.

The smile on Potter's face did not wane as he stepped closer, reaching out to take Snape's hand. He was pulled into Potter's arms, and kissed soundly.

Snape closed his eyes, letting the kiss move him where Potter wanted him to go. Giving in was the only answer, and he knew it. He had no more fight left in him, if he'd ever had any to start with.

Surrendering to the inevitable, he toed off his boots and then stood still. As his clothes fell away under Potter's fingers, Snape ignored the state they would be in when he retrieved them, in favor of letting himself drift on the sensations of Potter's mouth and hands on his skin.

Naked, he was pressed back to sit on the bed, Potter kneeling between his spread thighs. The sensations Potter's mouth evoked roared through him until there was nothing else in the world save that feel and that touch.

His legs were pushed forward to his chest, and he closed his eyes. He could feel Potter's fingers exploring gently, but instead of making him ready, as he'd expected, they spread him open once again and Potter's extraordinary mouth did things to him that no one had ever done. Things that he'd only half-believed people did to each other. Things that sent him flying.

Sweet Merlin, he'd never felt the like. Had never believed such pleasure could be his. That it was Potter doing this to him seemed beyond anything he'd expected or conceived of when he'd agreed to this. But there he was, with his tongue stabbing into Snape, and Snape knew all he could do was be grateful.

"Oh, please," Snape begged, not caring, only needing more. "Please."

For a long time, Potter continued, until Snape was on the precipice, ready to do anything he asked to have him continue. Potter's fingers worked into him, slowly, slickly, around his tongue and then replacing it. Surprisingly, those fingers, when crooked just right, could give him incredible pleasure.

"Ugh..." Snape said, bliss washing over him. "Please." Wishing with what little brain cells were still working that he didn't sound so needy, so pathetic.

It still hurt when Potter sank into him, but the boy had learned his stroke and with a thrust or two, Snape was sailing on the pleasure again. Thought fled in favor of sensation after sensation washing through him. He surrendered to the pleasure that built inside him. It wasn't going to last long, he knew it, but for the moments he could hold it, he would savor it. It was marvelous.

Without Potter ever touching him beyond where they were joined, Snape climaxed, shouting out in surprise as ecstasy moved through him. Potter continued to move on him, evoking little shock waves as he said the spell. Almost as soon as he'd gasped them out, Potter made a strangled sound and plunged into him one more time, then stiffened.

The euphoria of the moment was quick to fade, and Snape was left with a vague feeling of unease. It was less than the previous two nights, but still there. He wasn't sure how to address it, and speaking to Potter now was not something he cared to do.

Potter moved beside him. They hadn't made it all the way onto the bed. Snape lay on his back, with his legs off the bed. Potter was sitting up next to him.

Before he could give into the desire to close his eyes and doze, Snape sat up.

"That was good," Potter said, his expression lacking any emotion.

It was. Snape couldn't find it in himself to say so. There was too much emotion running through him to discuss it with Potter. He grunted in response.

"Are you going back to your rooms now?" Potter asked.

Why what he did mattered to Potter, Snape would never know or care. "Yes." He stood and reached for his clothes.

"Pretty soon, we'll be on the floor," Potter said, out of the blue.

Buttoning his shirt, Snape pointed out, "It won't be that many more times."

"I expect not." Why did Potter sound nearly disappointed? Pleasant though it was, surely this could not mean more to him than a means to an end.

"It's not as if we are lovers." Snape picked up this cloak, and shook the wrinkles out of it.

Potter's face turned red. "No. Of course not. But --"

"Do not think of this as more than it is, Potter. I do not want you to forget that this has a purpose."

"If I do, I'm sure you'll remind me," Potter snapped, finally reaching for his own clothes.

"With pleasure." Snape really did not want to get into this now. He put his cloak around his shoulders. "Go back to your dorm."

Dressed, Potter strode to the door. "I'm gone."

"Practice your control, I will test you tomorrow after lunch," Snape said as Potter stepped out.

"Right." Potter closed the door behind him with a thunk.

The room suddenly felt empty. Snape sighed.

* * *

  


When Harry got back to the common room, he was literally shaking with tension. He felt like he had to move, to do something, to expend some of the excess energy that was flowing through him. It was worse than the previous night.

Ron was asleep on the sofa, but he wasn't alone. Hermione was curled next to him, her head on his shoulder. They looked like lovers. But they weren't. Not any more. Harry didn't quite understand how they had managed to stay so close after last summer. But really, he was just glad it was all of them together again. He'd never have said anything to either of them, but he'd been afraid of being left behind as Hermione and Ron had grown closer.

He smiled. If he wanted to, he could join them, and one or both of them would pull him into their arms and hold him close.

The thought of being held by anyone didn't appeal right now. He wanted to run or fly or dance or something, anything. As the portrait snicked quietly closed, both Ron and Hermione woke up.

Harry," Hermione said, looking at him and then sitting up. "How are you feeling?"

"Jittery." He knew that he could not hide anything from her. "Why are you back?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I guess..."

Despite the way he was feeling, he could see she needed to talk about it. He moved across the room to kneel in front of her. "What's wrong?"

She sighed and leaned into Ron a bit. He put an arm around her shoulders. Harry took her hand. "Tell us," Harry ordered.

"They expect me to be more...Muggle than I am. I want to please them. They are my parents, but I can't. And the gap between us is growing as I get older." Her sigh was sad.

"Did something happen?" Ron asked, rubbing her arm.

"They try to be supportive, but they also have these unrealistic expectations." She looked at Harry with a dejected look. "They want me to go to Muggle university. We had a big row about it. They don't feel the Ministry apprentice program is good enough for me."

"It's one of the hardest apprentice programs to qualify for. You've qualified for all of the programs you've applied to. That's practically unheard of. You have your pick of careers." Ron sounded incensed.

Harry could understand that. "He's right. Why do they think you've not done well?"

"They want me to have a Muggle education to -- how did they put it -- fall back on should anything happen here." She shook her head. "I don't think they realize there is no coming back. That this is my life. There are no other options."

"You've tried to explain that?" Harry had heard other Muggle-born students tell similar stories.

"I don't think there is any way for them to understand. I don't think they want to." Hermione sounded so upset that Harry's heart went out to her.

"I'm sorry," Ron said with sympathy.

"Me, too." Harry put his other hand on her knee and squeezed.

"Thanks. Now tell me about..." she trailed off, not needing to finish it.

"We were talking about you." Harry didn't want to talk about Snape. It was too...intimate, too close to him right now.

Not that that ever stopped Hermione. "Really, Harry. Nothing is more important than this. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm..." Harry didn't even know where to begin. It was all so muddled now. "I feel...like I've got too much energy."

Ron put a hand on his shoulder. "Like last night? We can fly if you'd like. If you think that would help you sleep?"

"Snape said not to." God, that sounded lame coming out of his mouth.

"And you're going to listen to him?" Ron's tone could not have been more incredulous.

"He'll take a lot of points, if he told you specifically." Hermione's expression said she'd chance it if they wanted to.

"Do you reckon this is part of the spell?" Ron looked concerned.

Her brow creased, and Hermione nodded. "You know, that does make sense."

"How?" Worry started to creep into the tension inside him. Harry had some small amount of hope that it was just nervous energy from the stress of what was going on with Snape.

"Your power is being released all at once rather than gradually, as it would be if you had grown into it. Even though you have Snape's control, you still have extra power running through you." Hermione seemed nervous, as if she weren't sure about it.

That made Harry nervous, too. He knew he had more power than Snape had control and there was some part of him that was scared to death. "What happens to the power once the control is gone?" Harry thought perhaps he should have asked that question before he started the whole thing.

"I think...er...hope, it's going to revert back to its dormant state." Hermione didn't seem as if she were sure about that.

&lt;&gt;"But you don't know? That's not like you, Hermione," Ron said, nervously.

"From what I've read it should revert, but I've only found two sources for reference." She sounded apologetic as if there should have been something else she could have done about it.

"Do you need more than that?" Harry asked. The doubt in her voice was increasing his concern.

"Not usually for a spell. I just think the books should have mentioned that you'd feel like this. You still have two nights to go, it's likely to get worse."

Harry could feel the power surging through him, making him feel as like he were going to fly apart any second. "Maybe we should look into this further."

Hermione nodded. "First thing in the morning, I'll see what I can find."

"I can't sleep like this." Harry looked down at his hands expecting them to be shaking and was surprised to find them steady.

"Let's go fly and see if we can burn some of it off." Ron stood up, clearly ready to disobey any rule at a moment's notice.

"Dueling might work better. Not to mention not disobeying Professor Snape," Hermione suggested.

"Who isn't likely to be in a good mood tonight," Ron said, standing at the base of the stairs.

"I'd rather fly it off. I can't concentrate to duel." He was pretty sure he didn't have the concentration for anything more than riding very fast.

"Good enough. I'll go up and get our cloaks." Ron went up the stairs.

"I'll come along, too. I can try and explain to Professor Snape if he stops us."

"I don't think Prefect status is going to help you much with him," Harry said, grateful for her support, even if it wasn't going to do much good with Snape.

"Probably not, but it's worth a shot." She didn't seem to think she'd be of much help, either.

* * *

  


Snape glanced out of the third floor window as he made his late night rounds and saw someone moving out over the Quidditch pitch.

Potter.

He should not be so surprised that the recalcitrant fool had disobeyed him, but he was. Furious, he stalked down the stairs and towards the side entrance, gleefully counting the number of points he could deduct for this. Oh, he knew that the Headmistress would not let him take an overly excessive amount of points, say more than fifty, without giving great numbers of them back.

Interfering tabby, Snape thought. At least, he'd get some satisfaction for that many. Put the boy in his place, too.

As he silently approached, he saw that both Granger and Weasley had accompanied Potter in his little escapade. More to the good, he thought, adding twenty-five more to the total.

Granger seemed to sense him and she looked up just as he came abreast of her.

"Would you care to explain, Miss Granger, why you are out in the middle of the night?" Snape deliberately kept his voice low and soft with menace.

"Harry isn't reacting well --"

He didn't care why they were outside, and he didn't want to hear the excuse. "That doesn't explain why you are out here. I explicitly told Potter not to be out after curfew."

"As I tried to say --"

"There is no excuse for such blatant disobedience. You shall all be severely punished." Snape let a bit of his glee and anticipation gather in his tone. Let her know he was going to enjoy taking them down.

"No sir. But --"

"No buts, Miss Granger. You are in serious trouble."

"Yes sir." She squared her shoulders. That was never a good sign with a Gryffindor. "Take as many points as you want, but please just let me explain. Listen to me for one minute."

Snape decided it was worth a moment of his time. "And how many points might that minute be worth to you?"

She looked at him as if she couldn't believe he'd said it and then her look turned as calculating as any Slytherin he'd ever known. "How about half a point per second?"

"How about a whole point per second?"

"Sixty points." She considered it for a moment. "Done."

It was like taking candy from a baby, without the noise. "Do you speak for Potter and Weasley as well?"

"I do." There was no hesitation whatsoever in her reply. He had to admire that kind of loyalty. In theory.

If she were that desperate, he should probably listen without the points, but they were too sweetly won. It would also be so much more amusing when whatever she had to say failed to move him. He pulled his wand and conjured an hour glass with one minute left. "Speak. You have one minute."

"Harry is coming into his power too fast --"

"That was the point of this whole exercise wasn't it?"

"Please don't interrupt me. I only have one minute and I'm going to need every second of it. And it's costing me dearly."

"Ten points for your impertinence."

"Start the clock again." She glared at him. "Please."

For some reason, he did as she asked, spelling it done and then turning the clock over again.

"He shouldn't be feeling the power rushing through him the way he does. He shouldn't be so ill at ease. The spell should not be having such an obvious effect. He should have more control, not less. I think that your control is less than his potential power and this is the bleed off. We need to do something to help him. Please. Can you help us? I don't know what will happen if he's got more power then he can control."

She took a breath. "The books said that the power would revert back when the control was not there. If it's not happening as he gets the power with the control he had through you then what is going to happen when he loses the control altogether?"

"You trusted what you read without substantiating it?" Snape shouldn't need to tell her that was not always the wisest research practices.

She shrugged, looking down. "I knew that it didn't make sense that the power would revert. But the books both said it would. I had no choice. I only had the two references for this spell. Both of them seemed to say the same thing."

"Seemed, Miss Granger. Very sloppy research. I should take points for that, especially for having involved me in this as well."

"Where exactly was I to find more references on obscure sex magic? I have no access to any private libraries. The public ones are worthless." She put her hands on her hips and gave him a completely exasperated look.

"I see."

"You know, you're involved with this, too. Why didn't you research it?"

She was right of course. Before he could think better of it, he said, "I haven't had time." Depressingly, it was the truth as well. Between the Order, his teaching responsibilities, as well as dancing attendance on the Dark Lord, there wasn't time for anything else. He'd read what had been put in front of him, and had been desperate enough to believe it.

"You agreed to have sex with Harry, something I understand that you did not want to do, but you don't have time to research the spell that you're both using? In other words, you trusted me, a Muggle born, to find what I found without questioning it." She smiled at that. "Even I'm not that gullible.

"Ten more points for that impertinence." Even without her ever knowing, he hated to admit she was right. Given the situation in the world today, he had jumped at the chance to give Potter the control he needed to kill the Dark Lord, completely ignoring how that would happen and what the consequences might be. What a fool he was.

Granger didn't even wince. "I owled every bookseller in every wizarding bookstore in all of Britain for more texts on the subject in general, but there were none to be had."

"I have an extensive library."

She tilted her head toward him, her expression deliciously hopeful. "You'd let me look through it?"

"Certainly not." Dashing her hopes was not nearly so much fun as he'd expected it to be. He surprised himself when he added, "Not without a very good reason, anyway."

"Is Harry's life a sufficiently good reason?" Granger looked up as both Weasley and Potter came towards them, brooms in hand, their faces resigned.

Snape looked at the three of them, hating them, and knowing he was dependant on them in one degree or another for the one thing he wanted in this life: freedom from the bondage he'd inflicted upon himself when he'd been too stupid and too ambitious to know any better. When he'd been their age. The irony was not lost on him.

"Tomorrow morning." He started to walk away, but turned back, smirking. "Oh, and Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir?"

"Fifty points."

"Yes sir." She nodded, unsurprised and unresenting.

Snape walked away, wondering once again what he'd got himself into.

* * *

  


"Want to tell us what just happened?" Harry asked, watching Snape walk away in all his robe-flaring glory.

"Yeah. I get the feeling we missed something major." Ron looked after Snape, shaking his head.

"He's going to let me look at his library of sex magic books." Hermione sounded thoughtful, or maybe just anticipatory.

"You know that doesn't sound like something I'd want to do with him." Ron's expression was somewhere between a leer and horrified.

"Ron, you should grow up." Hermione gave him a scolding look.

He simply laughed. "As if."

"Why didn't he think of this before we started the spell?" Despite the relatively warm weather, a cold chill went down Harry's spine. Snape wasn't one to leave things half-done, neither was Hermione.

"For the same reason I didn't. I wasn't given a lot of time, and I trusted the books I'd found that supported the spell. There was nothing about side effects at all."

"Why are you doing this now?" Ron asked, and it was clear what he thought.

"We didn't realize there would _be_ side effects. But really, why would we consider it?" Hermione looked at Harry and Harry shivered.

"Harry is a lot more powerful than most wizards. Are you saying that you didn't take that into account?" Ron's tone was not quite accusatory.

"It shouldn't have mattered because once the means to control it was gone, the power would fade. So, no, I didn't take into account the potential of Harry's power."

"Do you think I should continue? I mean, with Snape, and the spell?" Harry fought hard not to blush at the thought of what he'd been doing with Snape.

"I think you're going to have to. You need to gain full control."

"What about my power?" Harry yawned, nothing like an hour or two of fast flying to exhaust him enough to sleep. The idea that he might have to do it for the rest of his life scared him pissless.

"It's going to be there. That's why you have to continue."

"That doesn't follow. What's going to happen after the spell?" Ron asked, holding the side door open for Harry and Hermione.

"I don't think Harry's power, once fully awakened, will go back to sleep," Hermione said, and her voice wobbled a bit as she did so.

"Which leaves me where?" Harry had a feeling it would be no place he wanted to be and from the look on Hermione's face, she thought the same thing.

"In trouble," Ron said, confirming it.

After that, they were silent. The stairs cooperated and deposited them right outside the common room.

"What should I do?" Shivering, Harry sat down in front of the fire and flicked his wand at it. It roared to life.

Ron laughed nervously, but said nothing.

"I'm going to see Professor Snape, first thing in the morning." Hermione sat down next to him. "I think it will be okay."

"At least I don't have to see him." Ron's face lit with pleasure. "I don't have anything to do for the rest of the holiday."

"Except your homework." It was not something she had ever taken for granted, but now after coming back to school so late, she never let them slack off at all.

Harry was very grateful to all the teachers who had set up extra classes and helped them catch up. He knew that there was more to life than studying.

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Spoil sport."

"Ron. We're still all behind, even with all the extra help we've got from everyone. You do want to pass, don't you?" Hermione had not been nearly so far behind as he and Ron had been. But it had become her goal in life to see that they passed their classes as well as their NEWTs.

And Harry was grateful for that too since he was fairly sure that he would not even be close to passing without her dedicated effort.

"Fine." Ron sat on Harry's other side. "You know we're with you on this."

Harry nodded, his chest too tight to speak for a moment. "Thanks. I would have thought you'd go ballistic about the whole sleeping with Snape thing."

"Given some of the other things we've done...." Ron trailed off. His tone acknowledged that there was no innocence left in any of them.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sleeping with Snape is pretty minor, isn't it?" Tracking down the remaining Horcruxes had taken time and effort. Snape's position with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, while not as good as Dumbledore had hoped when he'd staged his death, was good enough to assure Voldemort that Harry, Ron and Hermione had returned to school defeated, having failed to complete their mission.

"It's not something I would be able to do, even to defeat You-Know-Who, but if you can, then I've got to support you in any way that I can."

"That's very mature of you," Hermione said, approvingly.

"I thought so." Ron beamed at her. "Just don't tell me you're enjoying it, even if you are."

"I _have_ to enjoy it --"

Ron screwed his face up in a horrified expression. "Harry really, no details. Please." Then, he sobered and looked at Harry. "Unless you need to talk about it."

Harry shook his head. "That's the only part of this that actually works right."

"Sorry mate, I can't imagine it. And I don't want to." Ron's laugh was nervous.

"I think I can sleep now. Let's go up." Harry stood, and stretched. "You know, I just thought of something. I haven't had a nightmare since all of this started."

"What do you suppose that means?" Ron looked at Hermione.

"I have no idea," she said. "But I hope it keeps up."

"Me too." Harry started up the stairs.

* * *

  


Part 4

Snape was barely back from breakfast and that eager little Gryffindor know-it-all was standing at his door.

"Miss Granger." Against his better judgment, Snape opened the door wide enough for her to pass through.

"Sir," she said, wholly uncowed by him. She'd grown up enough not to care what he thought of her, and he resented his loss of control rather bitterly.

"The books you require are there." He pointed to a stack of twenty or so volumes piled on the low sofa table. "You may not leave with any of them. You may not move from that spot to any other part of my quarters."

"Yes, sir." Her eyes were wide as she took in his quarters.

He wondered what she'd been expecting to look so surprised. "What is your problem, girl?"

"It's nice."

"Did you think that it would be otherwise?" He phrased it as a question, but it was one she knew better than to answer.

"No, sir." She looked down, clearly trying to hide her blush.

This annoyed him even more. "Sit."

He cast a circle in a wide arc around her and the books. "If you move beyond the circle, for any reason, I will know it. I shall return in a few hours."

She looked like she might say something, but then clearly thought better of it. Surprisingly wise for a Gryffindor. "Yes sir. And thank you."

Snape knew what she was thinking. "Why no, Miss Granger, I do not trust you at all."

Granger scowled at him, but thankfully said nothing more.

When he returned two hours later, she had not moved.

"How long has it been? I feel as if I've just started. I've barely got through the first couple of books and not in any depth." She pointed to the stack on the floor. "I don't suppose --"

"No. I will not allow them out of my rooms. Have you found anything?"

Granger sighed. "I'm more concerned than ever."

"So, you've found nothing concrete?"

"No. Just some vague reference to control and the need to maintain it once the spell has been established."

"And what do you take that to mean?"

"Any number of things. It could mean that once the spell is cast there is simply a need to maintain control over the power. Or it could mean that Harry might have more power than he could control without you."

Snape shuddered at the very thought. He sincerely hoped she was wrong. "Are you saying you think that once released Potter's power might not recede?"

"I _could_ be wrong." Her inflection fairly begged for contradiction, even as her expression indicated that she did not think she was wrong. That she was terrified she was right. "I can't believe we did this to Harry."

"We need Potter to defeat the Dark Lord, sooner rather than later."

"How do we fix it?" she asked, sounding as if there should be a way to make it all better simply because she believed it should be so. Foolish Gryffindor.

"That of course, is the question of the hour, isn't it?" Snape needed to think this through and weigh out his options. He looked at Granger, her eyes big with worry, and sneered, "Get out."

She paled and pointed at the stack. "I need to--"

"You need to learn obedience. Do as I've said."

"I need --"

Snape's temper snapped. "Ten points for your insolence. You will leave my quarters at once. I will brook no disrespect from you here," he yelled.

She looked up at him, completely without fear. Snape fondly remembered the days when she'd cry when he took points from Gryffindor.

"Please, sir," she said, her voice low and soft with just a hint of desperation. "Let me finish. I'm worried about Harry. And you, too."

He supposed she had a point. "You beg so nicely, Miss Granger. One who didn't know you well might be fooled by it. Indeed, I'll wager you fool many of your teachers."

Her eyes flashed before she lowered them. "Yes, sir."

"You may return after lunch, if you wish." He smirked at her surprised look. Well, he didn't have time to do the research, especially not if he had to work with Potter this afternoon on top of everything else.

"Yes, sir." She finally left.

* * *

  
"Hermione, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Harry said, following her and Ron into the dungeons. A vague sense of dread enveloped them as they went down the steps.

"It will be okay. Professor Snape said I could come back this afternoon. I need help." Her voice was modulated to sound reasonable and reassuring.

Except that Harry knew Snape and he knew that he wasn't ever going to be reasonable. Not about anything.

"I'm not sure what good I'm going to be. It's not like I know what I'm looking for." Ron's tone had a distinct whine of displeasure. He'd been talked into helping Hermione and it was clear he'd rather be anywhere else.

"At least you don't have to spend the afternoon with him." Harry had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. Working with Snape had a tendency to be bad for his health, either mental or physical.

"There's always the evening, too," Ron added oh so helpfully.

Harry was trying hard not to think about what was going to happen tonight and tomorrow night. And even less about what was going to happen when the spell was set. That scared him more than anything else.

"Helping me will get us through the books faster, and maybe we'll be quicker to find something that will help Harry."

"That is the only reason I'm doing this at all. Because spending the afternoon in Snape's quarters looking through his dusty sex magic books is really not the way I wanted to waste my time."

"I'm hoping it won't be a waste of time." Hermione sounded like she really believed she might find something. Harry hoped so, for all of their sakes.

They stopped in front of Snape's door.

"I'm not sure how long my patience is going to hold out, even for Harry's sake."

But Harry knew that Ron would do what he had to do, just like they all would. He raised his hand and knocked.

When Snape answered the door, his expression was thunderous. "What are you doing here?"

Ron gulped, but straightened up to his full height, which was taller than Snape. "I'm going to help Hermione with her research."

"Are you? I hadn't realized you'd learned to read well enough to be useful." Snape smiled his ugly smile.

Harry put a hand on Ron's arm and squeezed it, hard. "Don't," he whispered.

Ron took an audible breath. "We'll be out of your gre--"

Harry squeezed again.

"Your hair, sooner, if you let me help Hermione."

Snape did not look like that pleased him, indeed he looked like he was ready to explode, but he, too, seemed to rein it back. He moved to allow them to come into the room. "Same rules apply."

Harry looked around, surprised to see how pleasant the room was. Bookcases lined the walls and gave the room a faint musty smell of old paper. There was a large fireplace with a low wooden table and a comfortable-looking sofa in front of it. Two leather winged-back chairs sat on either side of the sofa.

"Yes, sir." Hermione sounded respectful enough to mollify him. Harry admired that she could pull it off. She'd mock Snape with them and then turn around and be so deferential. He supposed it was a gift. One that might be useful to acquire.

"Sit." Snape pointed to the sofa. "Both of you."

For one more second, Ron looked like he might like to fight, but then he seemed to think better of it. "Yes, sir," he said through his teeth.

Snape cast some kind of circle around them and then turned to Harry. "Let's go."

"See you later," Harry said as he started to move towards the door.

Ron gave him a sympathetic look and made a show of picking up one of the books.

"Watch how you handle my books, boy! I won't have them damaged by your ham-handedness." Snape's eyes flashed with fury.

Somehow, Ron managed to swallow back whatever he was going to say. "Yes, sir."

Snape huffed and walked out, clearly expecting Harry to follow.

"You don't have to treat them that way. They are helping you, too." Enraged, Harry didn't care what he said. Snape was being such a bastard. Why couldn't he treat anyone fairly? Stupid question, said a voice in his head that sounded like Snape. Snape was unfair. That was a fact of life.

"They are helping you. That it aids me as well is only an afterthought." It was interesting that there was such a note of bitterness in that. Harry would not have thought Snape gave a damn one way or another.

"Still, you're benefiting," Harry pointed out.

"That is the only reason I'm allowing this...intrusion on my life."

Harry wasn't going to argue with him. It was useless, and he'd end up in detention for life if he said what he thought. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

Snape's look said he was an idiot and should know already.

Which wasn't fair as far as Harry could see. He had no idea what he could do with the new power and frankly, it scared him.

_"Legilimens!"_ Snape pushed his way into Harry's mind, sifting through his surface thoughts without a care.

Harry watched him see the conversation with Ron and Hermione last night. And he tried to pull back, but Snape held him firm. Rage rose in him and he pushed back, hard, putting what power he could muster into it.

He slid deep into Snape's mind like a knife through warm butter. There was no resistance. Or perhaps there was, but it was insignificant and useless.

Snape's emotions and feelings assaulted him. There was too much coming at Harry too fast. He couldn't process it. He saw his father, and Sirius tormenting Snape. Why was he still thinking about that? He saw himself and wanted to blush as the memories of the previous nights were replayed. He saw glimpses of Snape's unhappy childhood, surprised that the abuse rivaled his own with the Dursleys. He saw Snape trying to protect his mother and felt his hatred for his Muggle father. He saw the house Snape lived in and was surprised to see how much Snape loved the dilapidated place.

Sinking further into Snape's mind, Harry found his devastation over what happened last year with Dumbledore. He saw Snape crouched in a corner of his book-lined sitting room at Spinner's End, alone, crying miserably, hating himself for having done it, even as he knew it had needed to be done.

Harry pulled back; he had known that Snape hadn't wanted to do it, had railed against it, in fact. But seeing what it had done to Snape stunned Harry. He'd never considered Snape's feelings in any of it.

Dimly, Harry heard Snape screaming for him to get out of his mind, pushing ineffectually at his presence. As gently as he could, Harry withdrew.

As he let go, Snape sank to his knees, panting. "Clearly, that was a mistake." Snape's tone was wry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Whatever he felt for Snape, he would not cause him more pain.

"You did not." Snape climbed slowly to his feet and regarded Harry seriously. "However, you could have torn my mind apart."

"Oh, God." Harry put his face in his hands.

"You have an increasing amount of power at your disposal." Was that a note of fear in Snape's voice? Harry could not credit it, but maybe he did have more power than anyone expected him to have. The idea was terrifying.

"I'm trying to deal with it," Harry snapped. "You're supposed to be helping me." Despite what Snape had said, Harry didn't think he could hurt him. Maybe he had the potential to do so, but he didn't think he _could_ actually do it. Harry didn't want to hurt anyone.

As if in slow motion, Harry saw Snape raise his wand and he knew he was going to cast a painful hex. He didn't question how he knew, but he had his wand out and cried, "Expelliarmus!"

Snape went flying backward with more force than Harry intended. Deadly force. Despite that, Snape landed with a painful thud and then sat up slowly. Harry was more than grateful that he wasn't broken or worse.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, concerned. He came over to where Snape was sitting, and offered his hand to help Snape up.

For a second, it looked like Snape might refuse, but Snape took his and stood. "I think we are done for today." Snape brushed himself off. "Get out."

"What just happened? You should have hit the wall hard enough to do serious damage and you didn't... I didn't consciously pull back."

&lt;&gt;"Are you sorry you didn't kill me?" The sneer in Snape's voice was perfunctory and not even mean-spirited. He sounded tired.

And while Harry couldn't actually hear it in his tone, he knew Snape must be as scared as he was. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. But you were going pretty fast and I didn't know what to do to stop it."

Snape was silent for a moment, considering. "Perhaps your lack of intent to harm changed the force of the spell."

"I don't know." But he hoped so. The thought that he might hurt someone inadvertently horrified him.

"If I'd gotten that hex off, it would have hurt you." But it didn't seem as though Snape was sorry not to have hurt him.

"Good thing you didn't then," Harry said, smiling.

"Get out." That tone brooked no argument and Harry decided not to chance any more of Snape's ire.

* * *

  


Later that evening, Harry stood outside the Room of Requirement, his trepidation rising with each breath he took. Working with Snape this afternoon had upset him and he'd wanted to discuss it with Ron and Hermione, but they had returned from Snape's quarters quite late in the afternoon. They'd gone to dinner and Harry couldn't find the words to say what he wanted to say. Now, it was time for this.

He wasn't so sure that this was a good idea any more. What if his power didn't revert back after he killed Voldemort? What if he couldn't control it? What would become of him? That thought scared him to death.

"Where have you been, you inconsiderate brat?" Snape barked as soon as Harry was inside the door.

"Eager for me, are you?" Harry could not believe he said it, and not in such a sneering tone. His heart started to pound and he wished he could have taken the calming draught again tonight, but it was addicting. Snape had told him he couldn't use it more than three consecutive nights without a risk.

"Not in the slightest. I find you and this situation completely revolting." Snape sneered at him.

He'd been worried about how he could have hurt Snape this afternoon and now he wondered why he'd even cared. The man was a total bastard. There was some part of Harry that wanted to strike back, but with some effort he bit down on the impulse. It would certainly only make things worse. They had to get through the night. And it was definitely going to be harder tonight.

If he had to be the one who was mature about it then he would be, Harry thought, feeling superior. "Should we even be doing this?"

"Doing what, Potter?"

"This!" Harry waved his hand towards the bed. "The spell."

Surprisingly, Snape closed his eyes and sighed. "I am not certain we could stop at this point, even if we wanted to."

"Which you do, right?"

"Do you think I like sleeping with a student?" Snape yelled, his face red. "Do you think I like letting you fuck me?"

"It seemed like you enjoyed it last night, or did I get the screaming in pleasure part wrong?" That was the wrong thing to say. It was just that he hated it when Snape got all self-righteous. So much for being mature.

Snape's face went purple with rage. "You little brat. Do you really think I want you? Do you think there is any reason other than the Dark Lord's demise that would put me in this situation with anyone, but especially with you?"

Backtrack, Harry thought. He'd stepped over the line. "Look --"

Snape raised his hand as if to slap Harry, but he didn't follow through on it. "No. You selfish little boy, I am here for one reason and one reason alone. So that you --"

"I know, damn it. Don't you think I know that!" Scared and appalled, Harry reached out and took Snape's hand, hoping to keep him from violence. His anger and fear fell away, leaving him a bit surprised, but somehow eager to please Snape. "Did you feel that?"

"What?" Snape raised an eyebrow, but his tone for that one word was considerably milder than it had been.

"As soon as I touched you...."

"Yes. I hadn't noticed it before. How very odd." Snape's forehead furrowed in concentration.

"What is it?" Harry let go of Snape's hand, but his anger did not return. And by the look of him, neither did Snape's.

"It's like the calming draught," Snape said, thoughtfully.

"Is it the spell, do you think?"

"I think it's _a_ spell, but not part of the control spell." But Snape didn't sound sure of that.

"What? What spell?"

"I suspect it's the room."

That didn't make sense to Harry. "How can the room alter our moods?"

Snape's look became sneering. "Think! If we must do this, and we must, then we must have the means to do it. We must not attempt to murder each other as we accomplish our task."

"Then we didn't need the calming draught after all."

"I suspect that we needed all the help we could muster. I'm sure it didn't hurt. I am also certain that it is what it must be. The room ensures our compliance with the spell without interfering with it."

"How do you know it doesn't interfere? Maybe that's what's wrong with me." Harry wasn't hopeful that was the case.

"There are a great many things wrong with you." Snape's tone had lost its bite. He said it more as if it were a joke.

Not that Harry found any of this funny. "We still need to do it."

Snape looked away, and a visible shiver went through his skinny frame.

Harry took his hand again and drew him closer. "I wish --"

"Do not. We shall make the best of it." Snape closed his eyes again and leaned his head on Harry's shoulder.

For a moment, Harry held him. Whatever else he was, Snape felt good in his arms. As a matter of fact, Harry had no trouble admitting that he enjoyed Snape, and enjoyed giving him pleasure. Which might have been odd, given everything else he felt about Snape, but it was true nonetheless.

He raised a hand and slid it into Snape's hair, noticing while it looked greasy, it actually felt pretty clean. Harry decided not to mention this discovery to Snape since he might not appreciate it as much as Harry did. Smiling to himself, Harry leaned up and kissed Snape.

Snape groaned softly, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

As it had before, passion ignited between them and soon Harry was falling blissfully into it. He stripped them both quickly, letting their clothes fall away where they would. As he pulled Snape close, holding him, he let his hands roam over Snape's body.

With a moan that sounded like longing, Snape moved closer. Harry's excitement soared. Despite his prediction they might end up on the floor, Harry managed to get them into bed. He ran his hands slowly over Snape's pale skin. What was it that fascinated him, Harry wondered? But soon none of that mattered.

There was something so amazingly satisfying about hearing Snape's pleasure in his touch, hearing him moan so loudly and beg so needily. Harry couldn't deny him anything.

When Harry closed his mouth over Snape's prick, taking him deep into his throat, Snape bucked up, moaning again.

"Please," Snape sobbed, as Harry moved on him, up and down, changing the angle and taking all of him in.

Even though they'd had sex three times in the last three days, Snape came quickly, erupting into Harry's mouth with a lusty moan.

Barely giving him time to take a breath, Harry rolled Snape over and kissed the small of his back. Over the last few nights, he'd learned a lesson or two on what pleased Snape, and he intended to use it to his best advantage. Gently, he spread Snape wide and applied his tongue.

"Sweet Merlin," Snape moaned, pushing into Harry's mouth. "Oh, please."

"I'm going to make you feel so good," Harry said against his flesh, and stabbed his tongue in.

Snape pressed back again, panting. After a bit more, Harry started to work his fingers in as well.

"Harry. Harry. You're going to kill me, you sadistic boy!" The words were panted in a breathless, pleasure filled voice.

They made Harry smile, especially the use of his given name. For some reason, that pleased him most of all. "Do you want me to stop?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"If you do, I shall not be responsible for the consequences to you."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Do that."

Harry gently slid his fingers out, and before Snape could come down from the sensual high he was on, or complain, Harry turned him over again. Taking firm hold of Snape's hips and meeting his eyes, he draped Snape's long legs over his shoulders, and Harry slid in with a sigh.

Heat and constriction and delight surrounded him. Harry had to take several deep breaths or risk humiliating himself completely. Snape felt wonderful beyond words and Harry thought he could spend a good portion of his life buried inside him. After a moment, his body urged him on, and Snape's body easily accepted his thrust.

Ecstasy built around him with each stroke into Snape's warm flesh, each movement where Snape cried out in pleasure. Harry moaned. It was too good to last long.

As he started to come, Harry chanted the spell, feeling the power of it and his own power wash over him along with his orgasm. Harry cried out as pleasure cascaded over him, counterpoint to the lightning that seemed to shock through him at the same time.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry saw Snape watching him with a worried expression on his face.

"What?" Harry asked. "Did something happen?" Aside from earth-shattering sex, he wanted to add, but thought better of it.

Snape shook his head. "How do you feel?"

That was a strange question coming from Snape, but again, it pleased Harry that he had even asked. "I'm okay. But the power thing is worse than yesterday."

"I was afraid of that." Snape sat up.

"I didn't think you cared."

"As I have said, you must live long enough to kill the Dark Lord." Snape left the bed. "Accio Snape's shirt."

Harry sat up too, annoyed that Snape was being Snape. If he felt differently, then why didn't Snape? But it wasn't that he really felt that different. It was just sex, he reminded himself again.

"What is wrong with you, Potter?" Snape's voice was harsh, but lacked its normal malice.

"Nothing. Or...beyond the obvious, you mean?" Harry noticed they were back to Potter, too.

"Then why are you looking at me as if I've kicked you?"

Because it felt that way. "I'm not."

"You are, and I am at a loss as to the cause." Snape was still standing there naked, and Harry had realized he'd never really looked beyond seeing that his skin was so nice.

He looked. Snape was very thin. Beyond that though, his body wasn't bad. It had a rough strength to it. Long muscles wrapped around big sturdy bones. He'd be good in a fight, Harry thought.

"Is there some point to this," Snape asked, sounding irritated, but he had a faint blush on his face.

"No. Sorry." Harry didn't know what to make of what he was feeling and he wished he could ask Snape about it, but Snape would never admit to anything, even if he were feeling it.

"It's just that..." Harry trailed off. What could he say that would make sense? Or that would not sound totally pathetic?

"Do not confuse the false intimacy of what just happened between us with anything else." Clearly, Snape was not feeling the same closeness he was experiencing.

That hurt. Harry had to draw in a breath to relieve the tightness in his chest. "I'm not. It's just that...." Why couldn't he get the question out?

"For Merlin's sake, either ask or don't. Please stop the melodrama. I've had enough of it." Snape sounded both long-suffering and less-than-amused. That was pretty much a constant state with him.

"Fine. It's not that important anyway." Obviously, he could not tell Snape what he was feeling. It would be more fodder for ridicule, and Snape already had enough of that.

"Then do not continue to bring it up." Snape stepped into his pants and then his trousers.

When Snape was dressed, he turned to face Harry. "I won't bother telling you not to fly tonight. Quite obviously, you have no capacity for obedience."

"Thanks." Harry didn't think that even flying was going to fix what was bothering him. Not tonight, anyway. He wondered how he was going to get any sleep.

Snape gave him another long, assessing look, but then shrugged and left.

Harry got up and got dressed. He started for the tower, but then detoured away. Ron and Hermione and their questions and their sympathy would not help with what was bothering him. Being alone seemed like a good idea to him. So, he climbed the steps up to the astronomy tower, and settled against the wall.

* * *

  
Eventually, Harry made his way to Snape's quarters. As Harry stood before the door, trying to decide if he were going to knock or not, it opened. Snape stood in the doorway, with a deep scowl on his face.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked, sounding more weary than angry.

Harry looked down and then back at Snape. "I can't seem to...."

With a sigh, Snape stepped back. "I don't know why I'm indulging you."

"I think you know I wouldn't come to you if it weren't serious." Which sounded good, and was true, but Harry _was_ surprised that he'd ended up at Snape's door this late at night.

Snape pointed to the sofa. "Sit."

"Can you give me something?"

"Nothing magical. I'm not sure what else is going to help."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "What were you thinking I would do when you came here?"

"That's just it. I didn't know I was coming here until I was here." Now that he'd said it out loud, it sounded completely lame. And he couldn't do anything about that, either.

"That sounds typically Gryffindor. However, it's not useful. Did you feel compelled to seek me out?" The question was quite seriously asked.

It startled Harry, and he had to think about if for a moment. "No. I guess I was hoping you could help."

"I'm not taking you flying, if that's what you want."

It made Harry wonder what else Snape thought the spell might do. He shivered as a tendril of fear went down his spine. "Of course not. Ron would be happy to fly with me."

"Why didn't you go back to Gryffindor tower, then and find Mr Weasley?"

"I don't want to fly. I want to relax enough to sleep." He usually didn't sleep well anyway, but the thought of no sleep at all was daunting given what was going to happen in a few days.

"Nothing new with that," Snape muttered, finally moving from where he was standing to a small cabinet in the corner. He took out a bottle of some kind of whisky. "I daren't try anything magical, but perhaps something nonmagical."

He poured two glasses and came back to the sofa to hand one to Harry, sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

Harry raised his in salute and gulped it down. It hit the back of his throat, burning enough to make him choke on it. Coughing, he tried to catch his breath. He felt like an idiot for drinking it too fast.

"That was meant for sipping, Potter." Snape smirked at him, looking rather amused.

"Yes, sir." Harry tried to sound remotely respectful. They were in a difficult situation and he was trying hard not to push the bounds of it. Of course, it did occur to him that drinking with Snape in his quarters was probably already way beyond propriety. He didn't count what they did together for the spell. That really wasn't their choice. This was.

Harry watched the fire and sipped the rest of his drink. "It's not helping. I think I need to do something physical."

"You are on your own for that, Potter. I told you that I am not going flying with you."

Flying wasn't the only physical activity that took a lot of energy. He looked at Snape, and couldn't quite believe where his thoughts were going. Snape wasn't good looking, not by any means, but there was something about him that Harry had begun to find appealing. Some elusive quality that made Snape desirable, when he should have completely turned Harry's stomach. Harry didn't understand it, but he did know what he wanted.

Would Snape want to? Probably not if he were straight. But how straight could he actually be if he were able to respond to Harry as he had? He'd always heard that it didn't matter in the dark, but he rather thought that it did.

A faint flush appeared on Snape's face, and his expression turned wholly incredulous. "You're joking?"

"What? I didn't say anything." Harry could feel the heat stretch up from his neck. God, how had he known?

"What you were thinking is written all over your face. And it is a most inappropriate request." But Snape wasn't throwing him out and he wasn't saying no, either.

"I didn't actually ask for anything. Besides, it's not like anyone could say anything about propriety when I fucked you earlier this evening."

Snape winced at that. "Do I need to remind you that no one knows about what we are doing?"

"The Order does. Shacklebolt --"

"Told no one and asked that both you and I do the same."

"Why? I don't understand what the big deal is. This is necessary."

"You can't be that stupid, can you?" Snape's expression was scathing. "Oh, yes, of course you can be."

"Enough already. Just tell me." Harry's patience was starting to wear extremely thin. He didn't want to say or do something he would regret.

"This spell is very close to Dark magic."

"I know that," Harry snapped. "So?"

"Do you want people to know that was how you defeated Voldemort? If you manage it, that is. Do you want them to know what you did with a professor at your school? Because let me assure you if they know what you used, they are going to want to know with whom you used it."

"I don't think it's going to matter that much. McGonagall --"

"Headmistress McGonagall," Snape corrected.

"Headmistress McGonagall," Harry dutifully parroted back, "won't sack you for what you've done."

Snape looked at him as if he were mad. "All things being equal, perhaps not. However, she might not have a choice in the matter."

"The spell was...is necessary." Harry could not believe they were arguing about this.

"The spell may well be necessary, but what you are asking for right now is not."

Harry didn't think Snape was opposed to the idea, in spite of what he'd just said. "Except that it is. Besides, you haven't said no. Which leads me to believe you're not averse to the idea."

After slowly unbuttoning his robe, Harry shrugged out of it. His heart was pounding and his guts twisting as he slid across the sofa to Snape's side. Was he actually going to do this? Did he want to? The answer to both questions was apparently yes because he leaned in to kiss Snape.

Snape moved his head away, but didn't hex him or do anything else to push him away. "I think this is a spectacularly bad idea."

"Why? I think it will help me sleep."

"I do not care to be used that way." But there was a note of something other than annoyance in Snape's voice.

Harry grinned at him. "You can use me that way, too."

"I --"

Harry cut off further arguments by kissing him. Surprisingly, Snape responded. Even more surprisingly, Snape pushed him back into the sofa and stretched out on top of him.

"I lead this time." Snape leaned down and kissed him, hard.

Excitement and not a small amount of trepidation raced through Harry. He'd never had an aggressive lover before. But he leaned up into the kiss, hoping to lose himself in it. Snape's tongue slid into his mouth, stroking along his, playing with him, and enticing him to move back to Snape's mouth.

Harry moaned as desire sluiced over him, making him want so badly. He pressed up into Snape's thigh. Damn, it felt so good. It was hard to believe that he was doing this with Snape without any reason other than he wanted to. And he did, he admitted to himself. He wanted Snape.

More than that, he knew Snape was going to give him what he needed.

Snape opened the buttons on his shirt and pressed his mouth to Harry's chest. Harry groaned, pressing up as Snape bit him lightly. After another minute or two, Snape's fingers returned to his clothes. It seemed to Harry that no time had passed, but one minute he was dressed and the next he and Snape were naked.

"Wow," Harry murmured. "That was quick."

"Witches clothes are more complicated. Certainly more so than the Muggle clothes that you wear." Snape ran a hand down Harry's chest, caressing slowly.

Murmuring in approval, Harry leaned into the touch, reaching out to stroke along Snape's bare skin. His hands were taken and held as soon as he made contact.

"No. You are to do nothing but lie there and enjoy it." He said it coolly, but there was actually intense desire in his eyes.

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. "Okay. I don't know how good I'm going to be at that, I'm not..."

"A bottom?"

"Passive, actually. I've told you I've bottomed before." Harry liked to give pleasure and he wasn't sure he was completely comfortable with the idea of taking it without returning it.

"Did you like it?"

"Mostly. Until the following morning." The actual physical part had been wonderful. He'd loved the feel of that big prick pushing inside him, raking across that magic spot.

"Mr Fulbright and his bragging?" Unbelievably, Snape's tone held what sounded like sympathy.

Harry had expected to be mocked for being so gullible. And in this one case, he would have deserved it. "I was very sore, too. Luis didn't start until later in the day."

"I can make sure you're not sore."

"That would be good." He looked at Snape. "I'm assuming you're using something on yourself?"

Snape seemed to think that was funny. "Yes, Potter. I was prepared."

"I never even thought to ask if I'd hurt you. I'm usually a more considerate lover than that." A pang of regret that he hadn't treated Snape right went through him. He should have done better.

"Need I remind you that you are not my lover, considerate or otherwise." Snape's tone was sharp.

Harry didn't take offense. He wanted Snape to continue and they had wandered from their task. "If you finish what you've started --"

"I've started, Potter? I think I had little to do with this."

"I got naked on my own? You know, you could go back to what you were doing and I wouldn't complain about it."

"Since you ask so nicely." Snape dipped his head to kiss Harry again.

In minutes, Harry was flying on the sensations. It was amazing how Snape worked him over, nipping and tugging and licking. By the time Snape closed his mouth over his prick, Harry was right on the edge. It was a good thing too since it was pretty clear, pretty quickly, that Snape had never done that before.

Snape couldn't take Harry very deep into his throat without the gag reflex kicking in. After several tries, Snape seemed to settle for what he could do. Harry wasn't complaining, far from it, in fact. He bucked up into Snape's mouth, and tried to hold back.

"Come for me, Harry," Snape said, his tone low and deep and sexy. He licked the head as he stroked up and down firmly with his hand.

And really, that was all it took. Harry arched his back and came.

"Roll over," Snape said, pushing on his hip.

"Do it from the front."

"Won't it be easier from the back?"

"Probably, but I don't like it that way."

Snape nodded, holding out his hand. "Accio Snape's lubricant."

"Why do you even --" Harry cut himself off, as a blue bowl appeared in Snape's hand. "Sorry, stupid question."

"Very stupid."

Snape's fingers were long and slim and seemed to understand exactly what they needed to do. Harry was whimpering by the time Snape finally sank into him. It took Harry a second to adjust, and Snape waited, his limbs trembling with pent-up desire.

Harry breathed out. "Good."

Snape moved on him, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed, until he was pounding into Harry, and Harry was begging him for more.

The world shattered into bright light and exquisite pleasure. Even as he was falling into sleep, he noticed that the intense energy had bled away, and he wondered that they hadn't thought of this sooner.

* * *

  


After muttering a cleaning charm, and applying a bit of healing salve where it would do the most good, Snape tossed a blanket over Potter's snoring form. He supposed it was just as well to let the annoying boy sleep on his sofa. It would be just like Potter to be fine in the morning. Unlike Snape, who had more than once suffered the misery from sleeping on that piece of furniture.

At least, the sex seemed to have done the trick with Potter.

Snape tidied up his rooms, sending his clothes floating towards the laundry basket the house elves would collect in the morning. He yawned and stretched, pleasantly tired. Sliding into his bed, Snape found himself too keyed up to sleep. What was wrong with him? He'd slept well on the previous nights. Grumbling to himself, he went back out to his sitting room and got Potter, floating him into his bed. He wasn't going to think about why right now. He knew he wouldn't appreciate the answer.

In the morning, he would speak to the Headmistress. Not that he planned to mention this particular incident, but it was past time she was informed. He knew she wasn't going to be pleased with him, more so since it had been going on right under her nose. Snape could only hope she wasn't going to sack him for it.

* * *

  


Part 5

Snape woke him just before dawn and Harry crept back to the tower. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to find that Ron and Hermione were asleep on the common room sofa. He wished there'd been a way to let them know he was okay, but there hadn't been without coming back.

"Hermione? Ron?" Harry sat on the edge of the table that was in front of the sofa.

In tandem they opened their eyes.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Where were you?" Ron stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Did Snape keep you all night?"

"No, he didn't keep me. I stayed with him."

"In the Room of Requirement?" Hermione looked skeptical about that.

Harry shook his head. "I left there and walked around for a while. I couldn't shake the jittery feeling --"

"Why didn't you come back here? We could have gone for a ride," Ron said, his expression concerned.

"I didn't think a ride was going to do it."

"So, you went back to Snape's quarters?" Hermione sounded like she found that hard to believe.

Even after everything, so did Harry. "I thought he might help me."

"With a potion or something?" Ron looked like he was trying to understand.

"Yes. Except that he couldn't use anything magical." Harry looked at Hermione and she nodded. "So he gave me a drink, but that didn't work either."

"What did work?" Hermione had a glint in her eyes that seemed to say she had a good idea.

Harry could only nod. "Yeah. That worked."

"I'm not as surprised as you might think. Given everything I've been reading about the spell, it makes sense." She didn't seem scornful or appalled, which Harry had expected. He'd slept with a teacher after all, but then he'd been doing it all week. Maybe she was used to it by now.

Harry certainly wasn't. "It doesn't make sense to me," Harry said. "I mean, not the second time."

"What already?" Poor Ron. He didn't get it and looked like he resented the fact that he didn't. Which wasn't a good look for him.

"Snape found a way to help Harry." Hermione kindly didn't go into details.

"Good." Ron paused and looked at him. "How? Or shouldn't I even ask that?"

"Maybe you shouldn't." Harry's face started to heat up and he wanted to look away to hide it.

Ron was quiet for a moment and then blushed, himself. "Oh."

"Yeah." Harry confirmed it.

"I'm glad something worked. Though, I could not imagine doing that. Especially not when you didn't have to."

"That's just it, Ron," Hermione said. "I think he did have to. I think that the second time helped with his control. Don't you remember what we were reading yesterday?"

"What?" Harry had meant to ask about it, and he'd not had the chance.

"I'm not sure how it applies," Ron said, his brow creased.

"The person with the control gives it through the sex magic."

"But we didn't do the spell again."

"Doesn't matter now. The spell is nearly set. It will always work between you both. He will always have the control you need. All he has to be is willing to share it. He can certainly help you with the new power you're feeling."

"That's about control. It doesn't explain how Harry having sex with him again helped burn off the power."

Harry thought about that for a second and was relieved to be able to say, "It's not like it's completely gone. It _is_ like it's under control. Better than when I used it up flying with you the other night."

"So, I think you must have known that subconsciously. That's why you went to him. It all makes sense in terms of the spell." Hermione looked like she'd solved a puzzle.

"I'll have to take your word for it," Harry said, unconvinced it was true. It just didn't make sense to him. "I have no idea why I ended up going to Snape."

"At least, it's only one more night," Ron said. He sounded more relieved than Harry was.

Of course, after this was over, Harry had to face Voldemort. That made his stomach twist with trepidation.

Hermione's look said she understood the feeling. "Is everything set for us to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"You're not planning on going, too?" Harry folded his arms over his chest. Bad enough he had to risk Ron, but both of them was out of the question. He'd almost lost them too many times already.

Finding and destroying all of the Horcruxes had been difficult, but the last Horcrux had been so much more so. The dangers for the last one had been more than magical. Snape had provided the information on Helga's cup, and what little he knew about where it could be located. Hermione had actually found the cove on the jagged coast of Scotland where the cup had been hidden. Getting there had been treacherous, and when the search had taken longer than it should have, the tide started to come in, nearly drowning them with huge, cold waves. They'd literally had to swim for it, and none of them were strong swimmers. Harry shuddered as he remembered what they'd gone through. It had been too close.

"I most certainly am planning on going with both of you." Hermione mimicked him, looking positively mulish.

Harry was sure he could be more stubborn. After all, he had more incentive. "No. I can't risk --"

"I do not plan to be left behind. That is final." Her tone said there would be no backing down.

Fear coiled in his heart as he realized that it was pointless to argue with her, but he had to give it his best effort. "I don't want you both in danger. I know I have to let Ron --"

"Damn straight you do," Ron said, also folding his arms over his chest, looking as if he expected an argument as well.

If he could have argued with Ron he would have done. He was desperately afraid of losing either of them. "But I don't want --"

She didn't even let him finish. "Too bad. We've told you before. We're all in this together."

"She's right about that, mate. We have no plan to let you do this by yourself. So, just get used to it."

Harry glared at Ron and then Hermione. He should have known better than to try and dissuade either of them when they had made up their minds. He just hated it. "I don't --"

"I'm going with you and so is Ron." Clearly, there was no arguing with Hermione on this.

"Aren't you supposed to be the sensible one?" Harry asked as a last ditch effort.

She just smiled at him. "What house was I sorted into?"

"She's got you there, mate." Ron laughed.

Even though he was bursting with frustration at the thought of both of them at such risk, again, Harry was warmed by their steadfastness. He laughed, too. "Fine."

* * *

  


Snape rode the stairs to the top and the Headmistress' office door opened under his hand. "Headmistress? May I have a word?"

McGonagall looked up from whatever she was reading, and blinked at him through her square glasses. "Of course. Come in, Severus. Do you want some tea?"

He sat down in front of the fire, and waited for her to come around her desk and hand him a cup. "Thank you," Snape murmured taking a sip. Somehow, it was always perfect.

For a moment, McGonagall also sipped her tea, and then she looked up, signaling that Snape should begin.

This was more difficult than Snape imagined it would be. It had occurred to him that he was risking his job in telling her. "I'm not sure where to begin --"

"You've come about the situation with you and Harry Potter." Her tone was sharp and cool. It did not bode well for the rest of the conversation.

Snape slanted a look at her, dread sinking into his belly. She couldn't know. "What situation would that be?"

Her gaze sharpened. "The one where you're trying to evoke a Dark Arts spell to help Mr Potter gain control of his magic."

"If you know that much, you know that it's not quite dark," Snape said, trying to shake off the feeling that he was in more dire straits than he'd first thought.

"It's close enough to dark that most people won't care."

Snape would have argued the point, but there seemed to be no reason. Besides he was reeling from her knowing about it in the first place. "How did you find out?"

"Do you really think there is anything that goes on in this school that I, as Headmistress, don't know about?" She smirked at him, reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore.

"Apparently not," Snape said wryly. "How did you find out?"

"The castle reported something going on in the Room of Requirement that spoke of Dark Arts. Any reason you chose to do it there rather than your quarters?"

"I would not entertain a student in my private quarters," Snape lied without a blink. No need to tell her more than she needed to know.

"Of course not, you'd do it some place more secure," she said, sounding something akin to amused.

"I assume you spoke to Shacklebolt?" Snape managed to keep his voice steady, despite the pounding of his heart.

"He confirmed what I suspected."

"So you knew that Potter and I --" Snape cut himself off before he could say something too damning.

She just looked at him. "Was that what you wished to tell me?"

"Actually, it was not. We have a problem with the spell." Snape went on to explain what had been happening with Potter.

McGonagall sighed and sipped her tea. "As I understand the spell, his power was to be released slowly over five days, and restrained by borrowing your control. Is it not working that way?"

"No. The power seems to have come on him too fast for him to gain control of it, even borrowing mine." Snape shuddered. The potential for absolute disaster had not escaped him.

"And what has happened?" She sounded as if she expected the worst.

"Nothing yet. Potter is very restless --"

"Nothing new about that."

"No. However, he's reckless about trying to discharge the excess energy, as well. I've had Granger going through my books on sex magic for the last day, hoping to find an answer for Potter."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm surprised you allowed her that kind of access."

Did she believe that because he didn't like Granger, he wouldn't help her? Snape bit back a frustrated sigh. "She doesn't have many options for research of this type. I'm surprised at the few references she's been able to find."

"What did you expect? This information is not readily available." And McGonagall's tone suggested that it should be so.

"Might I examine Albus' library?" Snape asked. He didn't really expect to find anything more than Granger had found, but every avenue needed to be explored.

McGonagall looked up at that, clearly startled. "I hadn't realized there were any books on Dark Arts in the collection."

"I'm sure there must be something. It would not have been like Albus to have an incomplete collection." Snape wondered if she just wanted to bury her head in the sand.

"Are you certain you want to expose someone as young as Miss Granger to those kinds of books?" Even as McGonagall said it, he knew she didn't believe it.

"Oh, come off it, Minerva. Potter and both of his little Gryffindor friends destroyed four Horcruxes and likely sold their souls to do it. There's no innocence left in any of them."

"Severus --"

"She's the brightest witch to come through Hogwarts in several generations and we both know it. If she can't find the answer, then it doesn't exist." He might not like Granger, but he was aware of what she was. And he could not believe McGonagall would be so sanctimonious as to ignore that in favor of supposedly protecting her.

"Perhaps there is another way?" Really, McGonagall did sound hopeful. She was such a Gryffindor just like the rest of the lot.

Snape shook his head, disgusted. "Potter is on the verge of losing control. We must do something about it."

"I thought the whole point of this spell was to prevent that from happening. Especially given that you are not losing control of your own power."

"I am a powerful wizard, but Potter's potential is an order of magnitude greater than mine. Besides which, the spell has no discernable effect on me." Had that amount of power been in anyone other than Potter, it would have been truly frightening. Potter was too Gryffindorish and self-sacrificing to be a threat.

McGonagall looked at him, thoughtfully. "It's only one more night. Do what you must to keep him contained. By Saturday, he should be fine. It should all be over."

"Surely you don't expect his power to simply go away?" Because Snape could not believe McGonagall would be so short-sighted.

"I don't think there is anything to worry about yet. Once the spell is gone, his power will revert back to its dormant state. That is what _I've_ read."

"With all due respect, I think you're completely incorrect. I think that Potter is going to have a tremendous amount of power and no way to control it." And that scared him more than he could express.

"You will still be here. He can come to you for control, if he needs it."

The thought was so appalling that Snape could barely speak. He choked out, "That would mean continuing our...liaison. Would you sanction a teacher having sex with a student? Even if you would, I would not."

"Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that at all." McGonagall looked horrified by the very thought.

"I can't --" His arm started to burn. Bloody hell. What excruciatingly bad timing. "I'm being summoned."

"Do you have any idea what he wants?" She sounded quite concerned.

And Snape appreciated that. "No. I assume this is to confirm that Potter will be in Hogsmeade on Saturday."

"Go then." McGonagall stood up. "Report back when you return."

* * *

  


By the time he returned to the school, Snape was dead tired. He hadn't been kept that long in some time. The Dark Lord had him brewing several nasty potions and then all of those gathered for the meeting watched Peter Pettigrew torture someone suspected of spying.

All in all it was not Snape's preferred way to spend the day. Of course, now that he'd reported to both Shacklebolt and McGonagall, he had an even less preferred way to spend his night.

He took a breath and pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement, forcing himself to go inside. This was about the last thing he wanted to do. He wished he could dare another dose of the calming draught, but that would be folly. It would be another week before he could safely take it again.

Potter was lying on his belly, reading before the fire. Judging by the amount of leftover food around him, he'd been there for some time. "Hi," Potter said, looking up and giving Snape a tentative smile. "How are you feeling?"

Snape grunted. He hadn't the energy for pleasant conversation, or any conversation at all. "Let's get this over with." Snape pulled off his robe and set it over a chair near the bed. Methodically, he stripped off the rest of his clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on top of his robe. Then, with a sigh, he lay down on the duvet. By this point, he was failing rather badly at keeping his eyes open. Maybe if he just closed them for a moment.

"Severus." Potter's voice startled him. His hand was gentle on Snape's hip. "You were snoring."

"I'm awake," he said, blinking at Potter. The lights were dim, only a few candles burning and the fire was banked.

"Why don't you roll over?"

No foreplay? Snape couldn't decide if that would be good because it would be quick or if it would be so painful that it would be a perfectly bad end to an awful day.

Either way, Snape didn't care. He rolled over, and spread his legs apart, hoping he wasn't going to be asked to participate beyond the minimum required for the spell.

He jumped when Potter straddled him. That was a bit faster than he'd actually expected. But he couldn't find the energy to protest. Just let it be over soon. Instead of the expected invasion, Potter's slick hands touched his shoulders.

"What?" He tried to turn around, but Potter pushed him back down.

"Just relax. Okay? I know you're upset. This will help." Potter's voice was soft and low, barely above a whisper. It invited him to relax and let Potter take charge.

"What are you doing?" Snape would have liked to have had more anger in his tone rather than that appalling defeat.

Potter didn't answer. He dug his hands into the tense muscles in Snape's shoulders. Snape opened his mouth to protest this was unnecessary, but Potter hit a particularly knotted muscle group. First the pain, and then release from it, overwhelmed Snape and he couldn't speak.

After a bit more of that, a distressing sound started to come out of Snape, rather like a purr. What Potter was doing to him felt very good. Snape closed his eyes, surrendering to it, and allowing himself to enjoy it.

It went on for some time. Potter's hands worked their way slowly down Snape's back, and then his buttocks and legs. When Potter got to his feet, Snape would have given him anything he wanted to continue forever. Moaning obscenely, he could not believe how good it felt, how relaxing it was. Or that Potter was willing to give it to him.

He was nearly asleep when Potter asked him to turn over. Few people in Snape's life had ever treated him so kindly as this. He'd paid for massages, occasionally, when he had the time to indulge in such things, but no one had ever done so without a reason. That Potter would do this for him filled Snape with a host of mixed emotions. None of which were conducive to relaxing.

"Stop thinking so hard," Potter said, and there was a smile in his voice.

"Why are you doing this? What do you expect to gain?" Snape could not imagine that Potter didn't want something for this. No one was that kind, but especially not a Potter.

"I don't want to hurt you. If we had tried it with you feeling the way you did when you came in, I would have. Besides, aren't you enjoying it?"

Snape thought about lying, just to throw Potter, but realized he might stop. "Yes."

Potter's fingers dug into the tops of his thighs and Snape moaned again.

When Potter had finished with his front, Snape was more relaxed than he could ever remember being, especially right after a Death Eater meeting.

Just as Snape was thinking about falling asleep, the massage turned sensual. Potter's mouth and fingers touched him intimately. Snape let the sensations wash over him, taking him where Potter wanted him to go, moaning softly as Potter expertly aroused him to a state he would not have believe possible when he'd walked into the room.

Somehow, and he really wasn't sure how, he ended up with his legs draped over Potter's shoulders and Potter moving into him with languid, but steady strokes that built a slow burning but scorchingly hot fire inside him. He was whimpering in pleasure as Potter raked across his prostate again and again.

His orgasm hit him out of nowhere, blindsiding him, striking hard and knocking him flat. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he hadn't heard Potter incant the spell. He looked up as Potter moved off him.

Surprisingly, Potter had a pensive look on his face. "Potter?"

"You called me Harry earlier." But Potter smiled when he said it.

"Don't get used to it. The spell?"

"Seems to have worked. I feel better than I have the last couple of nights. How do you feel?"

Snape concentrated on himself for a moment. He felt better than he had when he walked in, actually than he had since all of this started, but it had nothing to do with the spell. "I am unchanged."

"I know the spell doesn't affect you. I mean, well, you were pretty wound-up when you came in."

"I am more relaxed now." Snape forced himself to add, "Thank you."

Potter beamed at him. "I'm glad it helped. I'd hate to think of trying anything when you were like that."

"What made you think of --" He waved a hand to the jar of massage oil that was lying in the ruin of the bed along with an open jar of lubricant.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea. I know I like it when someone does that to me."

"Do you often have people do that for you?" Snape couldn't believe how edgy his voice sounded. It wasn't as if he were jealous. He didn't care what Potter did.

"No. Unfortunately not. Some of the team knows how, and after a particularly grueling practice, we'll switch off and do each other. I was glad to do it for you."

"I appreciate that." Snape found it nearly impossible to believe that Potter would bother. It went against everything he knew about the boy.

Potter blushed under his scrutiny. "What did Voldemort do to you?"

Did he want to set a precedent for answering the boy's questions? "To me, nothing. To Jadrik Parson's father, rather quite a lot."

"Is he..."

"Not quite. I suspect by morning he will wish that he was. Peter Pettigrew found evidence that Parson was a spy for the Order."

"And was he?"

"No. I do not believe that he was." Snape kept his voice flat, giving nothing away.

"So, Pettigrew made it up?" Harry sounded doubtful.

As well he should. So, Potter was not a total fool. "Pettigrew lacks the intelligence to actually do that."

"Who?" Potter gave him a considering look. "You?"

Snape declined to answer.

"Oh. I see." Potter sighed, looking away. "Parson is a loyal Death Eater."

"Who has been known to abuse his three sons." Which was something Snape had a great many problems with.

As he watched, he saw Potter digest the information and come to his own conclusion. "That doesn't make it easier to watch, does it?"

Despite the fact he detested Parson, Snape also detested watching anyone being tortured. It left him feeling sick and dirty. "It does not."

"Did anything else happen?" Potter gave him a hopeful look.

"I informed the Dark Lord of your plans to be in Hogsmeade on Saturday." Snape was concerned that they would find themselves in a situation they could not handle. "The Dark Lord hasn't said anything about the information."

"So you don't know if he's actually got something planned."

Snape shook his head. "There should have been at least one planning session for this and that there wasn't concerns me."

"Should we even go?"

"He expects you, Weasley, and Granger to be there."

"He knows Hermione is going to be there, too?"

"Did you think to exclude her? Surely not." Potter didn't think that she'd stay behind for one moment, did he?

Clearly so because Potter said, "It was a nice thought."

"Deluded though it may be."

"True. I just don't want her, both of them actually, at risk."

Snape had nothing to add to that. He'd never had friends the way Potter did. Maybe it was a Gryffindor trait. "Do you feel more in control now? Is the jitteriness of the emerging power gone?"

"I feel better, yes, but..." Potter trailed off and blushed. Given everything that was between them, that seemed out of place in the extreme.

Snape was sure he wasn't going to like what Potter was going to say, just as he knew he couldn't avoid it. "What now?"

"Do you think... Do you want another go on top?"

Some part of Snape was very pleased with himself right then. "So, you enjoyed it that much?"

And wasn't that blush on Potter's cheeks char... nothing. It was nothing.

"It's not like we need to, but...."

Say no. Say it was against the rules. Say that it was out of the question or that it would be setting a bad precedent. Snape was appalled to discover he didn't want to say any of those things. "Tomorrow night. Come to my quarters, and for Merlin's sake, wear the cloak." Snape allowed his look to turn hard. "Understand me, boy. After you defeat the Dark Lord, we go back to how it was before."

Potter nodded, but he didn't look entirely convinced. Snape had to admit he wasn't either. And that was wrong on so many levels he couldn't even contemplate all of them.

* * *

  


Part 6

It seemed unnaturally quiet to Harry as he walked down the path towards Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione on either side of him. The air was too still, and something didn't feel right.

Even with several teachers already situated throughout the village, as well as several Order members, Harry hated that they were walking into a trap. Maybe this would end things, once and for all. He wasn't sure he could handle much more waiting.

As much as he'd tried to keep busy, the waiting of the last couple of days had nearly driven him mad. He'd spent the day before dueling, first with Snape, and in the afternoon with Hermione and Ron, but it was almost as much effort to keep his power back as it was to actually duel.

Then last night.... Harry sighed softly, thinking about what he'd got up to with Snape last night. He'd never expected their interactions to be so... enjoyable ... satisfying. That he would want Snape's touch. Despite his protestations that he was straight, Snape had surprised him by turning out to be quite a lover.

"What? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, giving him a worried look.

Harry could feel his face heat with embarrassment. To be caught thinking about Snape that way embarrassed him, even if Hermione didn't know what he was thinking about. "It's nothing."

"Was it that good?" Hermione smiled at him.

How was it she _always_ knew? At least she sounded like she accepted it, which was a great relief to him. "Pretty much," Harry said, glad that neither she nor Ron were giving him any grief about Snape.

Hermione coughed, probably covering up a laugh. "It's a bit hard to believe."

"I would never have thought...." He trailed off, and couldn't finish the sentence.

"Everyone looks good in the dark. Feels good, too." Ron said it as if he actually had a great deal of experience. But Harry knew he'd only seriously dated two girls.

"It's not about looks." Harry didn't understand what it was about, not exactly, and since it should all be over today, he wasn't going to worry about it.

Hermione nodded.

"I'm not sure _I_ could get past it with him. I mean, Merlin, he is so ugly." Ron shook his head. It didn't sound as if he hated Snape's guts as he had for most of the time he'd been at Hogwarts. Even with someone who was as horrible as Snape, it was hard to keep that kind of hatred alive when someone saves you and your mates more than once.

"Shhh...." Hermione put her fingers to her lips.

"No one is here." Ron made a point of looking around at the empty rolling hills along the path.

"She's right, though. You never know." Harry was nervous about having any kind of conversation that said anything. It was too open. There was too much possibility there actually was someone there who might hear the wrong thing.

"Sorry. But still. Ugly." Ron stretched the word out to make his point.

And truly, Harry couldn't argue with it, but, "I know. It's just that it doesn't matter that much anymore." He blushed again.

"You don't think he's ugly anymore?" Hermione didn't sound like she had any clue as to how that might be true.

"When I look at him, it's hard to miss. It just seems like it matters so much less than it did." Harry guessed that was the bottom line. Snape might be ugly as sin, but he was helping Harry and at some sacrifice to himself. Maybe Snape wasn't as straight as he claimed, but he was still allowing Harry liberties that no student should have from a teacher.

"How can you not look?" Ron asked.

"There are other things to focus on."

"Like what?" It was clear that Ron had no idea what else there could be.

It was hard to explain. He needed time to sit down and think it through, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "I think about how good it feels. How much I like doing it with him. How I like touching him."

"You like touching him?" Why did that startle Ron so much? Hadn't he been listening at all?

"That's what this is about. Also, he's got amazing skin." Harry deliberately didn't let himself dwell on that. He couldn't afford to have his mind on anything other than the task at hand.

Hermione looked around and whispered, "That's a surprise. I would have expected, I don't know, scars."

"Yeah, there are some. But mostly it's soft and cream colored and ..." Harry blushed yet again, feeling stupid. What on earth was he doing, waxing poetic about Snape?

"And? You said it was good. You mean what you and he..." Trust Ron to come right to the point.

"Oh yes. It's very good." Better than Harry could have dreamed. Not that he could have brought himself to think about it before it had happened.

"Which is even more surprising, given, well, his preferences and all," Hermione sounded as if it didn't make sense to her.

Harry could understand that since it didn't make sense to him either. All he had to do was think of the places where Snape had put his mouth and he was hard pressed to believe any straight man would do that.

"Yeah, well, if it were me..." Ron paused and then shook his head. "That's just it. It wouldn't be me."

"If you were a bit older, it could have been," Hermione pointed out, seriously. "With everything at stake, would you have refused? Said no and let Harry founder?"

Harry watched as Ron thought about it, and watched the surprising answer form on his face.

"For Harry, yes. Other people, not on your life."

Harry laughed. "Thanks. I think."

Ron looked over at him. "You're my best friend. I'd give my life for you, no questions asked. After that, sex is sort of..." He shrugged.

Harry stopped walking. His eyes stung and he had to take a breath to get the words out. "Thanks," he whispered, including Hermione in his smile.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the edge of Hogsmeade. "Lunch at the Three Broomsticks," Ron looked at them expectantly as they stepped onto the main street.

"Yes." Harry looked at Hermione and she nodded.

After lunch, they were back in the street, meandering around seemingly without a purpose. The shops were all open, but there were few people about. It was just too quiet for a Saturday afternoon.

"Potter! What are you doing out of the school?" Snape said, his robes flapping as he came towards them. He looked very annoyed.

"Sir, the Headmistress gave us perm--" Hermione started to say.

"I wasn't speaking to you, Mud--" Snape cut himself off before he finished the word.

They knew what he had started to say.

"I asked you a question." Snape's voice was too even for his anger.

Harry rather thought his scar should be hurting at this point and it wasn't. The afternoon just got stranger and stranger. "The Headmistress said we could come to Hogsmeade. Surely, she told you that."

"You foolish boy, there are Death Eaters about. You must come with me, now."

"In Hogsmeade?" Hermione's eyes were wide with fear. "Surely not."

"Stupid girl. Of course, here. Come now." Snape turned around and gestured for them to follow him.

Ron and Hermione looked at him and Harry shrugged. They'd best play this out. After several moments of fast walking, they reached a more remote area. There were few shops along the street and most of the other buildings seemed to be for mass storage of goods. Harry hadn't been to this section of town before, and he was sure that Ron and Hermione hadn't either.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded, stopping and fingering his wand.

Snape turned and scowled at him. "I told you to follow me. Now do it."

"No. I don't think so."

Snape pulled his wand, but Harry was faster. "Stupefy!"

With no more fanfare, Snape fell over and turned into someone else entirely. Harry didn't recognize him. "Well, that was unexpected."

"More so than you know, Potter," Warren Avery's voice came from behind a mask with four other Death Eaters standing with their wands drawn.

Stepping forward, Harry shouted "Expelliarmus!" He moved his wand in an arch to encompass as many of the Death Eaters as he could get in one blast. He was able to get two of them. Both Ron and Hermione also sent off hexes and took down the other two.

That left only one, who unfortunately, got off some variant of the Stinging Hex. Hermione yelped loudly as a huge welt opened on her arm. Ron fired another hex at him, and Harry followed it up with Stupefy.

With all six Death Eaters at his feet, Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. "That was a little too easy, don't you think?"

Hermione had tears in her eyes, but she nodded. "Yes. Only six of them. I think we've been set up."

"Probably. Can we do anything to that?" Ron looked at the wound.

"I don't think we should do anything until Madam Pomfrey looks at it. It feels cursed." Hermione had a tremble in her voice. It must hurt like bloody hell.

"We'd better get back to school." Harry glanced down at the fallen Death Eaters and cast a binding charm to hold all of them in place. "Do you want to stay, and make sure they don't get up?"

"Sure. I'll stay. Hermione needs to see Madam Pomfrey before that gets any worse."

Holding her arm, with her teeth gritted against the pain, Hermione nodded.

* * *

  


As the Order members filed out of McGonagall's office, Snape remained behind. They had a few items to discuss.

"What do you make of the attacks in London? Were they the diversion, or was it the attack on Mr Potter and his friends?" McGonagall sounded like she was actually soliciting his opinion.

Snape wasn't sure why he found that so amazing. "We went over this at the meeting. What happened in London was superfluous. A few Muggles were killed in the bombing. We had no reason to believe the Dark Lord would forego a chance to get Potter."

"So clearly neither attack was meant to be anything other than a distraction," McGonagall said.

Snape didn't understand any of it. Although the Dark Lord was unstable, he was usually fairly predictable. "The Dark Lord is obsessed with killing Potter; that he chose not to take this opportunity concerns me --"

"I agree, Severus. However, we have to believe he wasn't ever going to attack in Hogsmeade. Can we speculate that he knew there would be ample people around to protect Mr Potter and --"

"Except that there weren't." Snape was appalled that three students had been required to take down six Death Eaters by themselves. Even with the considerable training that the three of them had, and that Potter was stronger than any student his age, it still was utterly inexcusable.

"They were never alone," McGonagall said.

Snape knew she hadn't been happy with the situation, even as she'd agreed to it. He was less so. "They might as well have been."

McGonagall looked away. "After everything that you've done, you still may not be considered as trustworthy as we'd hoped."

"As far as I know, I'm still in his innermost circle. Narcissa Malfoy contacted me right before the meeting. She asked to meet me at Spinner's End early this evening. I'm assuming it's about what happened today."

McGonagall took several seconds to digest the information before she spoke. "Are you sure that would be a good idea? Your life could be at risk if you are not trusted."

"I shall do as I must. Perhaps this was a test of some sort." It would be just like the Dark Lord to do something like that, too, Snape thought grimly.

"I had considered that, but it seems unlikely. What would it prove?" McGonagall asked, grimly.

"That I gave him good information." Which was the only thing Snape could think of, but if the Dark Lord trusted him, it should not be an issue.

"Or that you set a trap for him."

"I doubt it. Potter was where he was supposed to be. He and his friends captured the Death Eaters all on their own." He glared at McGonagall. "It's unconscionable that they had to."

"As I said, they were never alone."

"I'm sure Miss Granger found that a comfort," Snape said, scathingly.

McGonagall winced. "That was unfortunate. She will be fine by morning. However, it did seem to whoever was watching --"

As much as Snape hated it, she was right. "None of the Death Eaters captured were particularly high in the ranks. And probably ambitious enough to try a damned fool plot that included Polyjuice on their own."

"If you didn't brew the potion, who did?"

"It's not that difficult to brew. A bright second year could do it, if she wanted." Snape had never been able to prove it, but he'd known it was her.

&lt;&gt;McGonagall nodded without any acknowledgement.

"There is another pressing problem," Snape said. This was not a subject he ever considered he'd have to discuss with her and it mortified him to have to do it now.

McGonagall didn't insult him by pretending not to know what he was talking about. "You and Mr Potter may work out any mutually beneficial arrangement you choose."

"Sweet Merlin, you're not giving me permission to continue?" Snape asked. He could hear the horror in his own voice. And he was horrified.

The disapproval on McGonagall's face was also plain. She held up her hand. "Not at all, I'm afraid. I cannot, will not, in good conscience do that. But I will look the other way for as long as it's necessary to do so. What else do you suggest I do?"

Snape conceded that there wasn't much she could do if they wanted to use Potter in this manner. "It's not as if we have many options. Do you think the rest of the teachers will also ignore it?"

"Because it's Potter and you, and given everything that has passed between both of you, I think they will follow my lead on it."

Which was probably true as far as it went. "As you please. But --"

"There are no buts." McGonagall sighed. "Mr Potter must be able to manage his power long enough to use it against You-Know-Who."

That brought up another point. "What are you going to do with him, if, when the power doesn't recede?"

She looked as if she had eaten something sour. "I have to hope that it will fade. Or that Mr Potter can deal with the power if it does not."

Surely she could not be that naïve. "You may have another Dark Lord in the making."

"I don't think so. Mr Potter has higher ideals."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor. You are truly a fool if you believe that."

She looked at him, sharply. "You make it sound inevitable."

"The boy has a phenomenal amount of power, more than any other Wizard of this age, or likely several ages. He's had it unleashed upon himself at far too young an age. What do you think will happen?"

"I think I shall believe in Mr Potter's inherent goodness."

"I think that we are all doomed." Snape put his head in his hands to block out McGonagall's smile.

* * *

  


Snape Apparated directly into the house at Spinner's End. The wards allowed only him to do so. He breathed in deeply, the smell of old books never failing to calm his nerves.

A flick of his wand and tea was started. Not more than five minutes later, his doorbell sounded. At least she was on time, he thought as he allowed the cloaked Narcissa Malfoy in.

"What is so urgent that it requires me to leave school in the middle of a crisis?" Snape asked, barely keeping his voice this side of civil. She had to understand there would be a price to pay for this inconvenience. Not that he actually thought he needed to remind her.

"What crisis is that, Severus?" Narcissa lowered her hood, but did not remove the cloak. She shook out her blonde hair.

Snape sighed. She was so very beautiful. He'd always found her arousing, though usually he responded to her smell and beauty more...readily. He must be more exhausted than he'd thought.

"Didn't you hear? The Potter brat was attacked in Hogsmeade today," Snape said, wondering just what she did know about it.

She simply nodded. "Bella told me. He fended off the fools who attacked him, pity that. That isn't why I've come."

"Then why?" He gestured for her to take a seat before the fire.

As she sat down, she clutched the cloak tighter around her. "I must find safe passage out of the country."

Snape blinked. That was about the last thing he expected her to say.

"Lucius died in prison earlier today." There was no emotion in her voice; not that he expected any. It was commonly known that their marriage had been arranged, with little love between them, although they both dearly loved their son.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically. There was some part of him that would always be grateful for Lucius' support over the years, but mostly he hated the monster Lucius had become. "Why do you need to leave the country?"

"Our Lord is going to test Draco again and now that the majority of the Malfoy assets belong to him, he will use me as hostage."

That was probably a very good assessment. "Then Draco must not fail this time." Snape knew that Draco would fail again. That worried him, too. He'd have to speak to Draco as soon as possible.

A visible shudder ran through Narcissa's body. "He cannot kill. We both know that. I am not sure of his loyalties, either."

Snape had thought the same thing since the summer. He'd not pursued it, hoping Draco would come to him. "Why tell me that? You know that I will go straight to our Lord with the information."

"No. I don't think that you will. I expect you to help my son." She said it as if she were sure of him and his loyalties to her.

Given the fact he'd been half in love with her since he was sixteen, and that she probably knew it, he supposed she wasn't far off the mark to assume he'd help her. Still, he wondered if this weren't some kind of test. "Why would you think I would bother?"

"You swore an oath last year to protect him."

"No. I swore to do the task if he could not. And I did. I was glad to." Snape's heart lurched as he said the words, but he managed to keep his face frozen in a sneer. "That doddering old fool was better off dead."

"Bella has told me that you are loyal to our lord. I'm not sure she really believes it, but I believe it. I also know that you swore that oath for Draco. For me." She closed her eyes and when she opened them, there was a calculation in them that stunned Snape.

He started to say that he swore it because Dumbledore needed to die, but he saw what she wanted to hear. "It is done now. What would you have me do?"

"I would have you continue to protect my son. I care only that he is safe. If I cannot be used as hostage against him, then he will have less to lose when our Lord calls upon him. I must leave."

"What makes you think I can get you out of the country?" Snape asked carefully. It would be easy enough to get her out unnoticed, and without magic, but he didn't trust this situation at all.

"I know you have contacts, use them. I beg you." She stood up.

He prayed to every deity that he knew that she wouldn't go to her knees again. He wasn't sure he could handle that a second time.

"I shall let you know..." he said, hoping to hedge.

"No. It must be now, tonight."

"I must return to school tonight." He'd sent Potter an owl telling him he'd be later than usual. Snape knew he should have just put Potter off for the evening, but hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Indeed, as soon as his thoughts turned to Potter, arousal started to flow through him. Ruthlessly, he pushed the thought away.

She put her hands to the clasp of her cloak and undid it. The cloak slid off her naked body. "I beg you." Narcissa stepped closer, pulling him up and into her arms.

Even half expecting something like this, he was still shocked enough that it took several seconds before his body started to respond to her. If he were a better man, Snape thought as he leaned down to kiss her, he wouldn't take what was being offered. But he wasn't a better man, and he wanted her.

That the whole encounter left him strangely unsatisfied bothered Snape a great deal, but he had no time to consider it. Before she woke up, he'd made all of the arrangements and she was on her way within an hour after that. When he spoke to Draco, which would have to wait until the morning, he would have him send his mother's possessions to her.

He Apparated back to school and hurried to his quarters to shower before Potter arrived.

* * *

  


A knock at his door later that evening startled Snape from his concentration on his grading. His heart started to pound and he forced himself not to hurry.

"Potter," Snape said, stepping aside and letting him in. Much to his dismay, his body responded to seeing Potter as if he hadn't had sex already once this evening. He was even more disconcerted when he had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch.

"Sir." Potter inclined his head, politely.

"Sit." Snape pointed to the sofa and almost laughed at the surprised expression on Potter's face. They hadn't spent much time talking, had they?

Potter sat and fixed him with a querying look.

"The Headmistress is prepared to look the other way --"

"What? Is that what she said?" For some reason, Potter looked outraged.

Snape was not sure why, either. "What is the problem with that?"

"I can't believe we have to do this and she's just going to pretend that we don't. What happens if someone reports us?"

"I suspect that no one will. It's better that, than her sacking me and expelling you. I assure you that is what they usually do to teachers who have intimate relationships with their students." Snape wondered why all Gryffindors were so naïve.

"We didn't choose to do this. We're not getting anything out of --" Potter stopped as if he'd actually heard what he'd been saying. He blushed.

"You were saying?" As much as Snape might like to deny it, after this evening he knew he was getting more out of it than he ever expected he would. What was worse, it had been brought home to him in no uncertain terms just how much he did enjoy it.

"I'm just saying it wasn't our idea to do this. Even if the sex did turn out to be..." Potter blushed again and mumbled, "okay."

Snape was not going to address any of that. "It was in fact, Miss Granger's idea."

"I can't believe McGonagall --"

"Potter!" It irritated Snape no end that the insolent boy did not show proper respect for anyone.

"Professor McGonagall is going to wash her hands of us, of me, because it's inconvenient." Potter stood up, and looked ready to march off to McGonagall's office and confront her.

Wouldn't that just be the perfect end to the day? Snape thought. There might come a time...but it was not at this moment. "Sit down, Potter."

The stubborn boy remained standing, continuing to glare at him. "But--"

"Do as I say." Snape put a note of authority in his voice. The one he used with the most recalcitrant students. It was rarely disobeyed.

Except by Potter, and this time was no exception. "But --"

Annoyed beyond words, Snape glared back at Potter and he sat, clearly reluctantly.

"It is so typical of you to act without thinking. You can't see what is in front of you. She can't acknowledge us. We're too far across the line."

"We're doing what we have to do to get the job done. Because we have to." Potter's tone had risen until he was nearly yelling.

Snape took a breath before he answered. "That doesn't make it right."

"Of course it's right. I can't believe McGonagall --"

"Five points for disrespect," he snapped, losing what little patience he had.

"You can't --"

"I just did. Let's move on. We shall need to set up a schedule." Under other circumstances, Snape might have enjoyed Potter's resentment, but there was no savoring it tonight.

Potter stood again, and started to pace.

"Sit down," Snape ordered.

"I can't. I'm too restless from everything that happened today." Potter was vibrating so badly that Snape could almost feel the waves coming off him.

"Tell me what happened in Hogsmeade." Snape found his patience wearing quite thin -- not that he had a lot of it on a good day, but today was particularly bad.

"Why? We've already gone over it. Shacklebolt made me tell it three times at the meeting today." Potter's resentment was loud and clear on his face.

"You may have missed something. The details are important." And Snape could not think of another way to calm him down.

As he paced, Potter recounted the events. He added nothing new in this telling. But as Snape had hoped, Potter was slightly less tense when he finished his recitation.

With a sigh, Potter sat down on the sofa next to him. "Just like I said before, there was nothing new to add."

If nothing else, it made Snape feel a bit better that Potter had gained some control. He'd be so grateful when this was all finally over. "It didn't hurt you to retell it."

"Maybe not," Potter conceded, then he scowled. "We've got to do this anyway. I guess it doesn't have to be every night."

Snape's pulse started to pound with anticipation. They might not need to, but he wanted to. He'd put off thinking about the implications of his reactions, his desires, everything in favor of doing what was required of him. It remained unresolved and he wondered just how long he was going to be able to put off thinking about it. "Perhaps not, but if you wish to, I will accommodate you."

"Yes. Please. I do. I need...." Potter met his eyes beseechingly.

Snape could see Potter's desperation.

Potter looked dejected. "I know I'm not what you want."

The irony in that was not lost on Snape. "Nor am I what you want, Potter. We are required to make the best of this situation." Snape stood, desire he could no longer deny rising up in him. He put his arms around Potter and gathered him close.

Potter leaned into him for a moment, holding on and then he pulled back, looking up at Snape. "You know, I still can't believe McGonagall --"

"I've told you, Professor McGonagall." Snape was starting to find Potter's disrespect more than just annoying. "Ten points --"

Potter put his hand over Snape's mouth. "No. Not here. Not when we're together like this. You can't be my teacher then."

"I'm always going to be your teacher." He could not think about being anything else, even if he was.

"You aren't. Not in this. Please."

As much as Snape didn't want to see it, there was a pleading light in Potter's eyes and it could not be ignored. He was a fool to bend at all, and he knew it, but he nodded, anyway. "Only in these circumstances. Try it any other time and I'll see Gryffindor in negative numbers."

Potter leaned up and kissed him. "Like that would be any different from what they are now." His expression sobered. "Thank you, Severus."

Whatever else he might have said was promptly lost in the kiss Snape pressed on his mouth.

* * *

  
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Potter asked sometime later, his fingers trailing in the drying sweat on Snape's back.

With a sigh, Snape turned over, and Potter's fingers danced over his chest, not trying to arouse, just meandering along. Snape found it remarkably soothing to have someone touching him so easily after sex. "We shall try to maintain our enmity before the others."

"It's going to be a lot harder now."

Snape would have liked to have disagreed. "I'm sure you'll manage to annoy me enough in class that it won't be feigned."

Potter gave him a put-upon look. "Right. Basically we need to act as if nothing has changed."

"Nothing _has_ changed." Even as he said it, Snape knew he was lying.

Unfortunately, so did Potter. "Severus," he said, and then stopped, looking down and blushing.

Snape did not find that blush at all becoming. "Don't make this into more than it is. We are nothing to each other. Nothing." An ache invaded his chest with the words, but Snape ignored it. It was nothing. Potter was nothing.

"If you say so." Potter's tone was insouciant, almost hiding his hurt.

What Snape could hear of it annoyed him. He hated being manipulated. What did Potter think he could gain by trying to make this more than it was? "Don't start."

Potter's eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. "I'm not doing anything. You're the one saying this is nothing to you."

"It is a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less." Snape knew that he should never forget that, not for even one moment.

"It's more than that." Potter didn't sound like he knew what it was beyond that.

"What do you think it is, Potter?" Snape wanted it to be what it was when they started. He didn't want there to be more.

Potter must have seen what he was thinking in his face or his eyes because his withdrawal was obvious.

Snape sighed when Potter removed his fingers from his chest. "Let it go for now, Harry. We must continue with the spell and to do that we shall need to make the best of it."

"At some point you... we're going to have to talk about it."

"Not today. Or this week for that matter. We are bound to the spell until our task is complete and the Dark Lord is dead." As unsettling as the whole thing might be, there was nothing to discuss.

"Then when -- what do we do when it's done?" Potter was using that whiny impatient tone that Snape hated.

"We go back to what it used to be between us. Until then, however, I'll give you a week's detention in class tomorrow. That will make all of this easier to accomplish." Snape wasn't going to acknowledge the look on Potter's face or the ache in his own chest. They would go back to normal. He wanted that.

"Great. Just what I wanted. I've got Quidditch practice on Thursday night. Make it for three days, okay?"

"I'll give you another one for Friday night." The idea that he was negotiating detentions with a student was abhorrent to Snape. That he was doing it in bed with that student was beyond the pale. When had his life got so far out of control?

"Let me have Saturday night off, too," Potter asked.

"Do you have a hot date?" Snape hadn't meant for it to come out quite as harshly as it had, but really, the conversation was surreal.

"As if," Potter scowled. "I can't see anyone while I'm sleeping with you."

He could, but it pleased Snape that he wasn't.

"How long do you suppose this is going to go on?"

"I have no idea. The Headmistress mentioned another Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks."

"That's going to put a lot of students, especially the younger ones, at risk. Most of them aren't trained well enough to handle what's coming. Even the DA students would have trouble." Potter's tone held his concern.

It concerned Snape a great deal, too. He didn't want to see any of the students hurt and also knew how likely it was to happen. Unfortunately, he also couldn't see another way to handle the situation. "I don't disagree with you. Miss Granger is one of the best trained students in the school."

Potter's expression was grim. "It took Madam Pomfrey most of today to break that curse. Hermione's still not feeling that great tonight."

Snape said nothing. He would not offer false sympathy. Still, he hated to see any student injured, even an annoying know-it-all like Granger.

"You don't care about anything, do you?" The anger and coldness of Potter's tone stung.

As much as he wanted to disagree with what Potter had said, and to voice his outrage that he'd said it, Snape did not. "I care about having my freedom when all of this is over."

Something changed in Potter's face, his anger fading. "I'm trying to give you that."

"It's time for you to return to your dorm," Snape said, feeling suddenly quite tired and wanting to be alone.

Potter got out of bed and picked up his clothes, stalking to the bathroom without a word.

Snape lay back in the ruin of the bed. Some part of him acknowledged that he was being unfair to Potter. However, he knew he couldn't give in too much or the entire situation would spiral out of his control -- more so than it had already.

Potter didn't glance at him when he came out. He simply picked up his cloak and left.

As the door closed, Snape let out a relieved sigh.

* * *

  


Draco arrived promptly after breakfast, summoned by Snape's note. "Sir? You wanted to see me?"

"Come in and close the door," Snape said, putting down the essay he'd been trying to grade. The situation with Potter took up too much of his time. Much to his annoyance, he was constantly having to play catch up. It didn't help that he'd slept badly the night before.

Snape nodded approvingly as Draco took the extra step and warded the door for sound. "What is this about, sir?"

There was no easy way to break it to him and he suspected Draco would appreciate the bluntness. "Your mother has decided to leave the country."

"I'm not surprised. She is in danger now that my father is dead." His voice caught at that, but nothing else showed. "I had a note from my aunt Bella. It was vaguely worded, but the gist was that our Lord will be giving me another task to prove my loyalty. He was not pleased with the results of the last one."

"So, you are aware of the situation. Good. Do you plan to follow through this time?" Snape hoped not. But he couldn't risk saying so outright. He had no idea where Draco's loyalties might lie.

"My aunt doesn't trust you. Yet, my mother did," Draco said, thoughtfully, glancing at him.

Snape knew enough to say nothing, to wait.

"I'm not sure what I should do," Draco said, after a lengthy pause, looking quite young for a moment, but the vulnerability was gone quickly. "I think my mother was wise in most things. I'm assuming you got her away safely."

Snape nodded. "She will require some of her things."

"Of course. I have thought about our talk over the summer."

They had talked several times. "What about exactly?" Snape asked, carefully keeping the tension out of his voice.

"Our Lord. Our roles." Draco looked down and sighed. "I'm thinking my aunt is right not to trust you to be loyal to our Lord. But I also suspect there is nothing she can do about it since she warned my mother of the Dark Lord's plans for her."

"If you think me disloyal, you must go to our Lord with the information immediately." Snape was fairly certain that wasn't going to happen, but that didn't stop the uncomfortable prickling of sweat on his back or under his arms.

"I don't think so," Draco said, not meeting his eyes.

"Then do not accuse me of disloyalty. I do not care for it." Snape scowled at Draco reprovingly, even as relief went through him.

"Yes, sir." Draco looked as if he were assessing him. "I am loyal to our Lord, but I can't help but notice that my mother's life was going to be used to threaten me."

Snape said nothing. Waiting.

"I also can't help but notice that you helped her. And the why of that concerns me, too."

There were too many questions in that, and Snape wasn't going to address any of them. The price of his help was a given before it happened. He hoped that Draco was sophisticated enough to understand that and not ask. "Your mother is an old and dear friend. I would do anything I could to help her."

&lt;&gt;"I suspect I'll need to consider my future carefully from now on." Clearly, Draco didn't want to know, which was a relief.

"You would do well to do so, yes."

"Were I to decide that I did not wish --"

"Then, of course, I would be forced to tell our Lord that you had abandoned our cause. He would not be pleased. Not at all, Draco." Snape met his eyes. "However, you are an adult and as such, need to make your own decisions."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "I don't want to make a mistake." It was clear that Draco was on the precipice, wanting reassurance, but unable to ask for it.

Unfortunately, Snape couldn't risk Draco not being sincere. A shudder went through him at the cost of being wrong. He couldn't risk it. Not even for Draco. "I've made many mistakes in my life. I will tell you that some are more difficult to reverse or be forgiven for than others."

Draco squared his shoulders and nodded. "I think that with my mother out of danger. I will be able to think more clearly about what my choices are. So that I don't make a mistake."

"You would be wise to consider all of your options." Snape took a breath. "I found that what you think you desire may not give the pleasure you thought that it would. And the means with which you attain it, even less so." And that really was as far as he could safely go. Draco had to make his own decisions. All Snape could do now was hope he'd make the right ones.

Draco seemed to understand that. "I think I shall wait on a final decision. These things can't be rushed."

Snape nodded. "Wise."

"May I speak to you again, sir? I've found our conversations enlightening."

Snape wondered briefly at that, but then dismissed it. "I would be pleased to speak to you and advise you in any way I can."

Draco inclined his head. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

  
Harry pushed the portrait open a couple of nights later, hoping he was late enough to avoid talking to anyone. He'd spent the evening with Snape, ostensibly for a detention, but that wasn't what they'd been doing. Ginny was sitting with her charms book beside the fire.

She looked up as the portrait closed. "Harry?"

"Hi, Ginny." He took off the cloak.

"You're out late," she said, but there was something else in her voice.

Concerned, he moved into the room, and stopped in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Two more Muggle born families were killed tonight. One in London and one in Leeds," Ginny said, her voice audibly shaking.

"Damn. This has to stop." Harry felt the anger start to rise, but he had the control to push it back down.

"Yeah, it does. But how?" She looked down and there were tears in her eyes. "It was Jessica Mill's family. I've been friends with her since first year."

Harry had a vague memory of hair like Hermione's and a sweet smile. "She's a Hufflepuff in your year?"

She nodded and sniffed.

Harry sat down next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. She turned into him, sighing sadly. It surprised him that after everything she still felt good in his arms. He held her tighter, breathing in her scent. That was wrong, somehow. He was expecting something different. Something...spicier. Something...else.

After a moment, she looked up and kissed him softly on the mouth. Then she pulled back and blushed. "Sorry."

He ran a hand over her hair. It didn't feel quite right either. Maybe it was too clean. Harry smiled at that. "I --"

"No," she said, her lips twitching into a chagrined smile. "I know it's...it doesn't feel right anymore, does it?"

Harry shook his head, surprised she felt it too. "I always thought...."

"Me, too. I'm dating Dean again." She blushed as she said it.

"I'd heard that. You keep going back to him." And he'd tried to work up some honest jealousy, but couldn't. Although he still cared deeply for her, he didn't actually care who she dated.

She smiled at that. "He drives me mad, but --"

"There's something there, right? Something that makes you come back to him?" Harry understood that in a way he didn't want to think about at all.

"You seem like you understand." She sounded as if she didn't expect him to.

"I guess I do, in a way," Harry said. He wasn't going to admit to anything at this point. There was nothing to admit to, anyway.

"Are you seeing someone?"

For some reason, the question startled him. "Not exactly." He was lying and yet, he wasn't. What was he doing with Snape, aside from sleeping with him, and borrowing his control? The answer was too complicated. It made his stomach twist.

"You're out of the tower more than you're in it."

"Snape and his damned detentions are part of that. The man is out to get me." Harry could not believe he blushed when he said it.

Ginny gave him a speculative look. "Do I want to know why you're blushing so hard?"

"No. I guarantee that you don't want to know." Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know either.

"Okay. Thanks, Harry, you're the best." She stood up and then leaned back down to kiss him again.

Harry watched her go up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He sighed. Something had to give, and soon.

* * *

  


Part 7

"Doesn't it feel like we just did this?" Ron said without much amusement. They were on the path to Hogsmeade, a mere two weeks after the last time.

Harry's nerves felt strung tight. He tried to convince himself that whatever was going to happen would do so and he would deal with it. At this point, he just wanted it to be over and done with.

"Deja vu." Hermione didn't sound any happier than Harry felt.

"It's a bit unnerving, isn't it?" He glanced up as a couple of third years raced by, completely unaware of the danger.

"It would have been so much safer if the Headmistress had allowed only the seventh years to go?" Hermione had argued with McGonagall, but she said that if it wasn't safe for the younger students, why would she allow the seventh years to go.

He hated it, but Harry saw her point. "I hate to see anything happen to the younger ones."

"I'd hate to see anything happen to any of us, mate." Ron's chuckle sounded forced.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "What do you want to do?" They had reached the Three Broomsticks.

"I'm for lunch. Been a while since breakfast." Ron patted his belly.

"What, it must be two hours, at least." Hermione's tone was probably a bit more tart than she'd meant it to be.

Thankfully, Ron didn't take offense. "Harry?"

With his stomach twisted in a knot, he was not hungry. "Let's walk around a bit."

"Good idea. I have a book I need to get at the bookstore." Hermione looked longingly down the block.

"I'd much rather eat than look at books." Ron's smile took some of the sting out the sharpness of his tone.

Hermione sighed. "That's fine."

With a knowing look at Harry, Ron shook his head. "Let's walk around a bit. Work up an appetite."

For a few minutes they strolled aimlessly, and were passed by several more groups of students enjoying the nice day. Harry knew what Ron and Hermione were thinking. "Do you think we should...."

"Go back there and maybe catch them off guard?" Ron, as always, looked ready to head off into the fray.

"And if they aren't there?" Hermione sounded half-hopeful about that.

With his scar aching, Harry didn't have much hope for that. At least the pain wasn't bad yet, so he could ignore it.

"If they aren't there, then we'll go to lunch." Ron smiled at Hermione. "Then the bookstore before going back to school."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Harry said. He squared his shoulders and started for the edge of Hogsmeade where they'd followed the Polyjuiced Snape two weeks earlier.

As they approached the area, Harry heard someone crying. As unlikely as that seemed in this situation, Harry knew they had to check it out. He nodded to Hermione and Ron and followed the noise.

In an alley right off one of the side streets, which seemed deserted, they found a first year Slytherin, with his back to the dirty wall. He looked terrified, but had stopped crying as soon as he'd seen them. Standing up straight, the boy looked like he was trying to gather up his courage.

"What are you doing out of the school?" Hermione asked, crouching down to talk to him.

"I wanted to find my dad. I thought he would be here." The boy sniffed again and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. "My mum said he was gone, but I didn't believe her."

"What's your name?" Ron's voice was surprisingly gentle for dealing with a Slytherin. "Why would you think your dad would be here?"

"I heard the other boys talking. They said their par--" The boy stopped and looked around as if seeing who they were for the first time. Fear took over his features, and he shook his head.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. "Did your friends say that their parents would be in town today?"

For a second, it looked as if the boy wouldn't answer, but then he nodded, seemingly reluctant. "Yes. I thought my father might be here, too."

"So, you snuck out of school," Ron asked, sounding as if he didn't approve.

Harry remembered all too many times that they'd broken the rules and wondered why Ron would use that tone. He looked at Hermione. "This is no place for him. We need to get him back up to the school."

She nodded, and so did Ron, but the boy shook his head.

"No. I want to see my dad," he demanded. "I know he must be here."

"What's your name?" Hermione asked.

"Jadrick Parson."

Harry knew that name. "Bloody Hell. His father is a Death Eater." Or was a Death Eater, which was more likely the case. He also wondered why the kid was so hot to find his father, considering what Snape had said about him. "We need to get him out of here."

"Do you want to take him back to the school and then come back?" That didn't sound like Ron's first choice for a course of action, but as far as Harry could see, there weren't that many options.

"My father is not a...Death Eater." But clearly, Jadrick wasn't that sure.

"It doesn’t matter. We're going to take you back to the school --" Harry stopped abruptly when his scar started to flare with pain. "Fuck!"

"Harry, what?" Hermione asked, a flash of fear crossing her face before it vanished.

Harry rubbed his forehead. "I don't think we have time to take him back, now."

"Blimey." Ron's face paled a bit, and he looked around, but the alley was empty. "Can we leave him here?"

"We're going to have to." Hermione turned to Jadrick, who still looked confused and more than a little scared. "You're in a lot of trouble." She put her hand on Jadrick's jaw and made him look at her. "No matter what happens, you are to stay in the alley. You are not to go into the street until someone from the school comes to get you. Do you understand me?"

"But, my dad --"

"Do you want to lose a hundred points?" Hermione's tone brooked no arguments.

Jadrick shook his head and dropped his gaze "I want to find my dad. Don't you understand that I have to?"

Hermione glared at him. "Right now, you'll do as I've said. You mustn't move."

He seemed to consider her for a moment and then he nodded, obviously reluctantly. "All right. I won't."

"Your word as a Slytherin."

"My word."

"We'll send someone for you, soon. My word on that." Hermione stood and squared her shoulders. "I'm ready."

Harry's scar flared again, so much so this time that he had to bite back a gasp. Voldemort was very close now. Harry took his wand out and so did Ron. "Looks like it's just us again."

"And this is different how?" Ron sounded grim, but determined. As they all were.

They walked slowly towards the opposite end of the alley and peered out. There was no one in the street. But Harry's scar was burning. He rubbed at it and both Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Damn," Ron whispered, but said nothing else.

As one, Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped into the street. There were twenty Death Eaters on the other side, all in robes and masks.

From the side of the alley, and Harry wasn't sure where they had come from, stepped several Order members. Shacklebolt put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. Snape stepped behind him and that, for some reason, was comforting.

They all stared at each other. The silence was thick in the air. Harry's heart pounded so hard he was sure that everyone could hear it. He felt like he was going to explode from the need to move, to do something other than stare across at those robes and masks. With an effort, he managed to hold himself still, waiting, breathing shallowly.

Waiting.

Without warning or a word spoken, someone fired a hex at them. Harry reacted without thinking, firing off a counter hex, stronger than the one that had been lobbed at them. It hit it before it could reach them and swallowed it up. That served to break the deadlock. Several more hexes and curses were cast from both sides.

Everyone scattered, breaking off into small groups to fight. Almost immediately, he lost track of Ron and Hermione. And then finally Snape.

All he could do at that point was to follow where his scar led him, and focus all of his attention on finding Voldemort. It wasn't hard. Voldemort wanted to be found.

As he approached, his scar flared in agony and he pressed his magic against the connection, trying to block it out. He was partially successful. Every time the pain faded, it seemed like Voldemort redoubled his efforts to make it more painful. It was distracting. But as bad as it was, without his increased magic it would have been so much worse.

It was an effort to ignore the screams and yells of people around him, but Harry knew he had to if he were going to survive. He had to concentrate all of his energies on this moment. Finally, as if a mist were lifted from his eyes, Harry saw Voldemort.

He stared at the ugly lipless face. This... person had made his life hell on earth since he was born, even before that. It was time he paid for his crimes.

Without saying a word, Voldemort raised his wand at the same time Harry did, but Harry, with his newly released powers was quicker to pull the magic necessary for the curse.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry screamed with all of his intent focused on ridding the world -- his world -- of Voldemort once and for all.

Harry trembled as a tremendous amount of power rushed through him and out of his wand. It was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

At the same time, nearly on top of him, Voldemort also cast Avada Kedavra. Harry reached out with his magic and held the spell away from himself. He redirected it backward towards Voldemort. Voldemort was hit with both Harry's curse and his own.

In that second before he was engulfed completely, Voldemort seemed to be reaching out for something. He sensed Voldemort searching and knew he must be looking for the Horcruxes. Using the last of his power, Harry pushed the images of each destroyed Horcrux into Voldemort's mind.

Voldemort's dying scream was horrible, unearthly and agonized. Harry winced at the sound, hating that he'd caused anyone, even so vile a creature as Voldemort, so much pain. A voice in his head reminded him of the pain that Voldemort had caused him and many other people, but Harry knew that didn't make it right.

Voldemort's body was still, and Harry cast Extirpate. There would be no coming back this time. As soon as Voldemort was a pile of ash, his scar stopped hurting completely. He touched it gingerly, his relief so great that he literally felt weak in his knees.

As Harry turned back towards the battle, a magical backlash of power slammed into him, and wave after wave of dizziness swept through him. His vision started to go gray and recede. He saw Snape reach out to him as the world went black.

* * *

  
Harry opened his eyes slowly, and with some reluctance. It hurt to breathe. His body felt like he'd fallen off his broom at a high altitude and there had been no one there to break his fall.

Ron and Hermione were leaning against one another, fast asleep in the chairs next to his bed. They looked uncomfortable but Harry couldn't bear to wake them because they looked so exhausted.

As if they could hear him thinking, they shifted, and jerked awake.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was hoarse. Her red-rimmed eyes were filled with both hurt and sympathy.

Harry's heart started to pound hard. He could tell by her expression that he wasn't going to like what she was going to say, and he tried to brace himself for the worst. "Tell me. Snape?"

She shook her head, her eyes widening a bit in surprise at his first guess. "No. He's okay. He brought you in."

"Who?" Harry tensed even more, fearful anticipation clutching at his throat.

"A lot. More than we expected." Ron's voice broke. "Ginny."

"Oh God, no." Harry felt a sob rise up in his chest and he pushed it back down. "She can't be...." Harry looked at Ron. His eyes were wet, and he nodded. Harry felt like he'd been hit in the chest with a Bludger. He had to take several quick breaths before he could speak. "How? What happened? Who?"

"She was hit with a killing curse by one of the Death Eaters." Hermione took a breath as tears seeped out of her eyes. "She wasn't the only one. The Death Eaters were targeting Muggle-born students. They knew just who to hit."

"Ginny got between a third year and a Death Eater. I think she was hoping that the Death Eater would pull back and not kill a Pureblood. When he didn't, Ginny fought him, but he was more powerful. Several of the younger students saw it, and a couple tried to help, but...." Even as his voice broke again, Ron looked and sounded so proud of her.

Harry was, too. That was so like Ginny. Brave until.... "Damn. I can't believe.... How're your mum and dad? The rest of your family?"

Ron shook his head, and it was a moment before he could speak. "About like you'd expect. Mum's a wreck. Dad's being stoic. Bill and Fleur are staying with mum and dad. A lot of people lost someone, Harry. It was a bloody battle and it stretched all over Hogsmeade. We'll all be a long time in recovering."

"Hogwarts especially. It's going to make things even more difficult for the Headmistress." Hermione's voice was far from steady.

"Yeah," Ron agreed and cleared his throat.

"Why?" As far as Harry knew, things were going to be difficult no matter what happened.

"McGonagall's never had the power nor the influence that Dumbledore had. She isn't going to be able to protect people as well." Hermione was telling him something, but Harry's mind couldn't quite grasp it.

"Why would she need to if Voldemort is gone?" Harry asked, feeling sluggish, as if he couldn't quite shake off sleep.

"Because the Ministry can't find all the Death Eaters who attacked Hogsmeade, and the public outrage over what happened is pretty intense." Ron looked uncomfortable. His hands were clenched together.

"Are you saying that the Ministry is trying to hunt up the Death Eaters? Haven't they been trying to do this for a while?" They had never been successful, by design or simple incompetence, Harry wasn't sure.

"Very unsuccessfully, I might add, but they are trying harder now. It's already starting. They are targeting anyone who might have the Dark Mark." Hermione's eyes flashed, and Harry knew the unfairness probably drove her mad.

Considering who else Harry knew that had the mark that could be a very big problem. "That's insane."

"They are going after mostly Slytherins, but you know, not the top notch pure bloods. They are protected." The irony was heavy in Hermione's tone.

"And many of them were the inner circle of Death Eaters," Harry added.

"Exactly."

Harry yawned. Just being awake a few minutes had exhausted him. "You should both go get some sleep. I mean, in a real bed."

"Actually, we should get Madam Pomfrey to look at you." Hermione stood up. "We should have done that first thing."

"So, are you okay?" Harry asked Ron as Hermione went to find Madam Pomfrey. If Harry were feeling this bad, Ron must be feeling a hundred times worse.

"I can't believe she's gone. I fought with her all my life, but you know, I loved her so much." Ron's voice broke and he blinked his eyes several times.

Harry put a hand on Ron's arm and squeezed. Even if it weren't in a romantic sense, Harry had always taken for granted that Ginny would be part of his life forever. It didn't seem possible that she could be gone. His eyes stung again and he wanted to cry. "I know. I'm so sorry."

Ron sniffed. Madam Pomfrey came into the room and shooed both Ron and Hermione out. She ran her wand over him.

"You're very lucky. You've so nearly drained yourself of power that you might have died." Madam Pomfrey sounded disapproving, as if Harry'd had a choice and had willfully chosen to injure himself.

"Is that why I feel like I've been run over by a train?" Every muscle ached and his head hurt, but not with a full-blown headache, more of a low-grade annoying one.

"Probably. It will be a few days before you should attempt any magic."

"Why?"

"Because you've strained your system as far as it will go. You won't be able to do anything very difficult for a week or two."

"Will all my magic come back?" He'd liked having the power, once it was under control, but really, he'd rather it went back to pre-spell levels. The truth was, he wasn't confident that was going to happen, and it scared him.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Of course your magic will come back."

She didn't know about the spell. Harry was surprised by that. "Okay."

"How is our patient?" McGonagall came in, green plaid robes billowing smartly.

"Pretty good, ma'am," Harry replied. "How are you? How is the school?"

When Madam Pomfrey finally left him with an order to rest, McGonagall sat down in the chair that Ron had vacated. "You're to receive the Order of Merlin, first class."

"Ron and Hermione?"

"The same."

Harry was glad. He didn't want to be singled out. "Snape?"

Tilting her head, she looked at him askance. It was the same look she gave him when he did something completely perplexing in class. "Why would he receive anything more than any other Order member? We're getting the Order of Merlin, second class."

"Because I wouldn't have had the power or the control without him," Harry said, exasperated. Why was she playing dumb? Oh, wait, they were in public. He sighed and met her eyes. Yes, that was it, wasn't it?

"It's done now, correct? There will be no need for either of you to continue it?" McGonagall asked, her eyes boring into his.

"I don't think so. It was supposed to fade out." Harry wondered if he should mention that he wasn't a hundred percent certain about it doing that. Since McGonagall did not seem receptive to the idea, Harry decided to hold off until it was necessary. Maybe it wouldn't be an issue.

"Fine then. That's all I need to know." She looked disapproving and Harry wondered if she wouldn't take it out on Snape at some point. He couldn't let her do that.

"It wasn't his fault that we had to do the spell. But it turned out all right -- I mean, he didn't do anything...." Harry sputtered to a stop, feeling a blush moved up from his neck.

She shook her head, twin spots of color appearing on her pale cheeks as well. "No details, please. It's done now and you both can go on with your lives."

"But not everyone..." He didn't say that some couldn't. And Ginny's face appeared in his mind and his eyes filled again.

McGonagall looked at him and her expression became sympathetic. "I know. There will be services for the dead for the next few days. Next weekend, you shall get your awards."

Harry's heart twisted at the thought of going to Ginny's funeral. It seemed so impossible that she was dead. It wasn't fair or right. But then, a lot of things weren't right. "Snape deserves a first class."

"I'm afraid he's not going to get it. We would be required to explain what he did to earn it." She pinned him with a hard look.

"What about all of his years of spying for the order?" They all seemed to want to forget about that, didn't they?

McGonagall at least looked uncomfortable. "We don't want to draw attention to him. I think he understands that."

Harry didn't. He glared at her, getting angrier and angrier at her attitude. "I don't think that you've asked him, have you?"

"I don't need to," she said firmly, and then she did meet his eyes. "Do you think that the Ministry wouldn't jump at the chance to prosecute him for taking advantage of a student?"

Fury rose in Harry. "It wasn't like that at all --"

"I know that, and you know that, but I doubt seriously the Ministry would see it that way. Besides, I'm quite sure the spell, whatever it might have been, bordered on Dark."

He inclined his head and conceded her point, but anger still churned in his belly. Snape deserved better than this. "No one objected to it while we were using it to defeat Voldemort."

"No one knew," she pointed out, her tone tart but also sounding, if not amused, then not nearly as strident as she had been previously. "It is not something we are going to discuss again."

"Of course not." Harry looked down, trying to find some sense of balance or calm or something to hang onto. "Is it that bad now? I mean, I've only been out --" He realized he had no idea how long he'd been out.

"Two days. And yes, it's quite bad. The battle was awful. Seven students were killed as well as five Order members."

"Who was killed?"

"Of the students, three third years: Anibel Kirkland, Austin Stratton, Eliza Guthry, one fourth year, Miranda Thompson, two fifth years, Sean Harris, and Marin Burlin, and Ginny Weasley. Miss Weasley will be getting a First Class posthumously."

Harry felt like his heart was being ripped out. He'd known Marin and Sean from the Quidditch team. "Who from the Order? Anyone I know?"

"I don't think so." She listed them.

He shook his head, he didn't know them, but that didn't make it any better. "I can see why people are upset. How many Death Eaters were captured or killed?"

"Too few. About twelve total."

"But there were twenty or more in front of us when we came out of the alley!" Harry said, his mind boggling at so few.

"And ten or twelve more that were in Hogsmeade to kill Muggle-born children."

Anger slid into Harry's gut like a cold knife. "What the Death Eaters did was reprehensible. They should all be caught and executed."

"Yes, I agree with you." Her look was fierce and her fists knotted for a moment. "I'm sorry that some of my students were forced to kill."

"So, they have to live with that as well as their friends being killed." Harry would have to do the same thing. Voldemort's dying scream would likely haunt him forever.

"As will you. I think, and have thought, we've asked too much of you."

Harry expected to get a lot of that kind of regret now that it was all over. He knew he'd be smarter not to let it annoy the hell out of him, but suspected he wasn't going to be able to pull it off. "It's too late to worry about it now, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so."

It was all starting to press down on him and he wanted to be alone. "I'm really tired."

No one had to tell her twice. McGonagall stood. "I'm sure you are. Sleep well, Harry."

* * *

  
Snape let himself into his rooms, and struggled out of his filthy robe, tossing it to the floor in disgust. One of his first years exploded a cauldron of something that should not have exploded. He started for the bath --

"Ahem," someone said behind him.

Closing his eyes, Snape's stomach dropped. The Dark Lord was finally dead, and he'd let his guard down for one second. It would be just his luck to die in his own quarters, two days after being freed from a lifelong mistake. Expecting to be cursed, he turned around, pointing his wand at the intruder.

Draco Malfoy sat on his sofa. His wand was in his lap, not pointed at him. Stupid move, that. "According to my aunt, you helped bring down our Lord. She also informed me that since I am a good and loyal follower of our Lord, I should kill you where you stand."

"Bit late for that, don't you think?" Snape inclined his head towards his wand, which was leveled at Draco.

"It could be. Or I could be lulling you into a false sense of security."

Snape chuckled, but did not lower his wand. "You don't seem as loyal as all that. You had the advantage of surprise and didn't use it."

"I did, didn't I? However, I'd really like an explanation for why you changed sides."

"Would you? I would think that the truth of the matter should be obvious. You're not stupid." Snape was too tired for this right now. Too tired and annoyed.

"I want to know why you betrayed our Lord. What did you hope to get out of it, by going with Potter."

"This actually has very little to do with Potter. And my reasons for doing what I've done are just that, my own." However much he might like Draco and want to help him, he was not about to discuss his life with anyone.

"I need to understand." There was a plaintive note in Draco's voice that made Snape want to tell him, and he wondered if Draco had done that on purpose.

He squelched the impulse for the moment. "Why do you care? You're well out of it now. The Dark Lord is dead. And you may go on with your life." He had a lot more choices than Snape had. When it came down to it, Draco hadn't soiled his soul the way Snape had.

"How could you have fought with that Muggle-loving Potter? I just don't understand that." Draco's dislike of Potter was plain, but his curiosity seemed to override that.

Snape pushed his lank hair out of his eyes. "Think, you fool! If you were going to support someone, wouldn't it be someone powerful enough to slay your enemies."

"You consider our Lord your enemy?" It sounded as though Draco had never even thought to consider that possibility.

"What would you call him? A friend? Someone you cared about personally? Your mother had to flee the country so that she, a loyal follower, could not be used against you, another loyal follower."

"I consider Potter more my enemy than I do our...the Dark Lord."

If Snape hadn't been so tired, and worried about Potter, then he would have laughed. "Potter is your school rival. He is not your enemy. Even now, were you to make an overture of friendship, he'd probably be fool enough to accept it."

Draco blinked, his face filling with shock. "You're joking. He hates me every bit as much as I hate him."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure you both hate each other. I suspect that has more to do with habit than with content. It is clearly in your own best interest to look beyond your rivalry with Potter." Snape found saying this ironic in the extreme. He was a fine one to talk about looking beyond a rivalry, even if it _were_ in his best interest to do so.

Draco wasn't listening any better than he would have. He sneered. "I still hate him. And everything he stands for."

Even knowing it was futile, Snape felt obligated to say, "Are you so sure of that? Everything he stands for? Even the right not to have to kill if you don't want to? The right of all magical people to have a chance to live in our world?"

"You sound like that...that..." As unlikely as it was, Draco couldn't seem to find the right epithet and finished lamely with, "like Granger."

"She is not so far wrong. And I think you know it, too." At Draco's age, he never would have thought it either, but his mistakes had taught him well.

Draco looked down and surprisingly, he blushed.

"So, you think she is not quite so unseemly now that she has blossomed into such a fine looking young woman?" So the boy wasn't as unaffected as he would like to be. All to the good. He'd like to see Draco break away from his past and forge a life on his own terms with his own ideas. He'd been pushing for that, subtly, since last summer.

"She..." Draco growled. "We're not talking about Granger!"

Amused, Snape tilted his head towards Draco. "We could be. She'd make a fine wife for you."

Draco turned red and then white. "She's a M.... She's not appropriate. She wouldn't look twice at me. Nor I at her."

Didn't Draco protest just a bit too much, Snape thought, hiding a smile. "Ah, but you're the head of your family, now. You may do as you please. Remember what I told you about choices? This might be one of them."

"She's...Muggle born." But it didn't sound like the epithet that he would have expected coming from Malfoy. Perhaps he'd learned something after all.

"Do I need to tell you that the most powerful wizards are no longer Purebloods? Look around you Draco. Your father, for all his influence and money, was only a mediocre wizard, your mother is even less so. Who are the most powerful wizards you know? Look at Potter. He's a half-blood. As am I, as was the Dark Lord."

"But...but..." He stopped and clearly was considering it.

"Consider this as well: Granger is the smartest, most powerful witch to come through this school in several generations. She's already done more in her life than most witches ever do. And she is strong. Both --"

"Well, if you think she's so great, why don't you do something about it?" Draco's tone was his sneering best, but underneath that, Snape could hear something else. Something that surprised him.

"She's my student. It would be completely inappropriate." He was going to conveniently ignore who else was his student and no, he was not blushing. "We've strayed from our subject."

"Granger?" Draco didn't sound eager to get back to that.

"Potter."

"What future could I have with either of them?" Draco asked, sullenly. "Why would I want to throw my allegiance to Potter?"

A wave of jealousy that he couldn't control flared through Snape. Potter was not meant for Draco. "Whichever one you wanted. With either of them. I believe that if you were to put it to him correctly, you might be of great use to Potter politically."

"I never thought about that. Except that I was on the wrong side."

"Not really. You were not marked. You can say you changed your mind before you did any real damage. Potter was there when you didn't kill Dumbledore." A pain shot through his gut at who did kill Dumbledore. But he couldn't consider that now. Not without having hysterics again.

"Which wouldn't be far from the truth."

"Staying near the truth is always a good course of action." Snape understood that only too well. "When all is said and done, Potter will be a very powerful wizard."

"I didn't think he was that powerful." Draco sounded as if he wished that were so more than he actually believed it.

How could the boy delude himself so thoroughly, Snape wondered. "At twelve, Potter killed a full grown basilisk to save Ginny Weasley. At fourteen, he won the Triwizard tournament against the best of the best from the three finest wizarding schools in Europe. And then if that weren't enough, he escaped the Dark Lord and several Death Eaters who were attempting to kill him, and not for the first time, either. At seventeen, he destroyed the Dark Lord. Permanently. I would not underestimate his power were I you. I think I would fear him to be my enemy."

"I guess he's not your enemy, is he? Do you serve him?"

"Not in the way you mean, no. I've served the side of light for many years." He didn't want to serve anyone, ever again.

"I have a lot of thinking to do." Draco looked down at his wand.

"Don't think too long. The Ministry is going to be hunting Death Eaters."

Draco stood and pulled something from the pocket of his robe. "This is where Aunt Bella is hiding. She's got Peter Pettigrew and two others with her."

"You're giving her up?" That was a surprise.

"It's her or you." Draco met his eyes. "I doubt Potter would speak to me if I gave you up. Or killed you."

Snape wasn't so sure of that, but to hide his uneasiness, he sneered. "That isn't much of a threat since we both know you're not capable of killing anyone."

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing. I'm thinking that besides you, it's what saved me."

Snape inclined his head. "Why did you break into my quarters?"

"I thought if I surprised you, it might be easier to get you to talk to me."

"Fifty points from Slytherin. Don't ever do it again."

"Yes, sir." Draco brushed a bit of lint off his robes, but seemed unimpressed by the point loss. "I'll speak with you again later."

"As you please." Snape was relieved when he finally left.

* * *

  
Part 8

Harry hated being on display. He hated having his picture taken by reporters. He hated answering personal questions that were none of anyone's business, and mostly he hated that his life was still not his own.

Standing with Ron and Hermione immediately after being awarded his Order of Merlin (first class), Harry tried hard not to grimace as the Minister of Magic told the reporters outside the ceremonial hall that Harry and his friends would answer a few questions. Scrimgeour then limped away, leaving them to the sharks.

Harry hoped it would be a very few questions.

"Harry! Harry," one of the reporters called. "Esmeralda Franklyn, Boston Wizarding Daily. How do you feel now that it's all over, and you've saved the world?"

"Relieved." Harry put an effort into keeping his exasperation out of his voice. How many times did people have to ask the same questions, he wondered. And if they thought about it at all, they'd know it wasn't over yet.

"Vladimir Kerslov, Moscow Magic Today. What do you plan to do now?"

"Finish school." Harry wished with all his heart they would let him go. But one look at the crowd's eager faces said that wasn't at all likely. He groaned inwardly.

"I mean after school?"

"I haven't decided yet." Truth was, he hadn't had time to think about anything, yet. He pointed to another wizard with his hand up.

"Benedict Peterson, the Daily Prophet. How did it feel to battle You-Know-Who all by yourself?"

"I didn't do it by myself. As I've mentioned, more than once, Ron and Hermione were with me." He turned and smiled at them. "The Order was with me, too, backing me up. I was trained by Professor Snape and the late Headmaster Dumbledore."

"So, Harry, which of your two friends are you dating?"

Harry's face turned red, and his blood pressure went up. He was about to tell that person what he thought of them when Hermione put her arm around his shoulder from one side and Ron did the same from the other side.

"Both of us, if you must know." Hermione's expression was completely serious, and if Harry hadn't known better, he would have believed what she was saying.

"That's right," Ron said, pulling him closer. "We share him."

Ron made a show of kissing his cheek and then Hermione's. Harry's anger drained away and he laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Surely not," the reporter sputtered.

"Why not?" Hermione's tone was silky and dangerous. Harry had always loved it when she sounded like that. "Do you think we're not good enough for him?"

The reporter went red. "Of course not! But...but...both of you?"

"It's none of your business," Harry snapped, tiring of the joke.

"The public has a right to know."

That attitude infuriated Harry. He would have liked to have told the reporter what he really thought about it, but instead, he kept calm. "The public does not have a right to know my private life. Or that of my friends."

"You're a celebrity," the reporter insisted, as if that would sway Harry.

"I don't care. I killed Voldemort for you. That's all you have any right to expect. My life is my own, and I'll thank you to stay out of it." Harry was one second away from exploding when McGonagall cleared her throat.

She stepped up to the dais. "I think it's time for the reception." She held her hand out for them to proceed her into the next room.

Harry was never so relieved. "Thanks," he whispered as he went by her.

"You do know that they will report that the three of you are involved. It will likely appear in every paper in the wizarding world." McGonagall sounded somewhere between completely appalled and actually kind of amused.

Harry wondered if it was because she thought they were involved or because every one else was going to think that. "It was a joke," he said, hating to have to explain himself yet again. On the other hand, it should have occurred to him that no one would find it funny.

"I'm sure you thought so, but I think that many people will believe it." McGonagall shook her head. "You should know better."

"It's okay, mate." But Ron looked chagrined. "It's not going to be the worst thing they print about any of us."

"I expect you're quite right, Mr Weasley." McGonagall held open the inner door and they went into the reception.

As the three of them entered the room, everyone stopped speaking and started applauding. Harry hated this, too.

"Let's get something to drink." Harry snagged a glass of something from a tray that floated by. It was bubbly and tasted sweet. He assumed it was alcoholic. He'd be having several of them.

"Don't drink too much, or too fast, Harry. You want to keep your wits about you," Hermione warned as she took a dainty sip from her glass.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron nodded. "She's right. Probably don't want to get pissed." Ron tossed back the drink in one go and reached for another.

"You shouldn't either, Ron." Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

Ron drank down half the contents of the glass. "We should be celebrating."

"Maybe we should sit down." Hermione pointed towards the head table. It was on a raised platform so that they would be visible from anywhere in the room.

On display again, Harry thought with disgust.

They were partway across the room when Mr and Mrs Weasley came towards them. Mrs. Weasley was holding the plaque they had made up to hold Ginny's medal. "I'm so proud of you, Ron," Molly said, and she hugged him. Her eyes were red rimmed and her natural exuberance was completely suppressed.

For a second, Harry glanced around for Ginny, and then he remembered. His heart broke again. When Mrs. Weasley hugged him, he saw the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said for the hundredth time.

"It wasn't your fault," Mr Weasley said. He didn't look any better than Mrs. Weasley. "You did what you had to do. All of you did. And we're grateful."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and they both moved away.

Ron looked like he might cry. He sniffed. "Sorry, mate."

Both he and Hermione sniffed too. "Yeah," Harry said. "Every time someone says how happy I should be, I just want to punch them."

"Don't. Okay? They don't understand." Hermione took out her handkerchief and blew her nose.

"If they thought about it for ten seconds they would." Harry took her handkerchief and blew his nose on it.

"You know, that's disgusting." Hermione shook her head when he tried to hand it back to her.

"Nah. It's not. Let me have it." Ron took the handkerchief and blew his nose on it. He handed it back to Harry.

Harry smiled at Hermione and put it into his pocket.

"I think I'm going to go sit down now." It was pretty clear she was trying not to laugh at them.

"You okay?" Harry put his hand on Ron's arm. Ron tried to put on a good front, but Harry knew he was devastated. After the funeral, Ron had cried for a long time, while he and Hermione had sat on either side, half holding him up. Harry had never felt so helpless in his life.

"As well as can be expected, I guess. Every time something happens, I expect to see her there. I was looking for her in the audience during the ceremony."

"Me too." Harry's chest tightened, and if he didn't want to humiliate himself, he had to find another topic.

Ron seemed to understand. "I'm going to talk to Hannah."

"I'm going to go sit down, I think." Harry started towards the table again, but it seemed like it was even further out of reach than before. The room had become more crowded.

"Well done, Harry." Rufus Scrimgeour tipped his glass in salute.

"Thank you, sir." Harry did not want to talk to him, and wondered how he could get out of it without being rude.

"What are your plans for the future, m'boy?"

"I'm going to finish school. Beyond that, I haven't decided yet." Harry had to have answered that question at least five times already. But he supposed that Scrimgeour hadn't been listening.

"I heard a rumor that you wished to be an Auror. I believe I can be of some help to you with that." Scrimgeour's voice was smug with his own sense of self-importance.

"No thank you, Minister. If I can't get into the program on my own merit then I don't deserve to be an Auror." Harry barely managed to keep his tone in the polite range.

Scrimgeour, of course, didn't notice or care to, more likely. "Now, Harry. There is no harm in accepting a little help now and again."

"It's a moot point, anyway, sir. I don't want to be an Auror." No way he would ever take a favor from Scrimgeour. He knew with bitter certainty that the price would be far too high.

"Why not?" Scrimgeour's voice dropped and clearly he was displeased with that bit of information.

"It occurred to me that I don't want to do that anymore. I'm not sure why you would care, sir." It seemed inconceivable to him that what he did with his life was that important to anyone other than himself and his friends.

"I'm concerned about you, that's all. I want to help you if I can." Scrimgeour's voice was ever so sincere.

Harry didn't buy it for a second. Scrimgeour wanted him in his debt and that was a place Harry would never be, not if there were any other option. "I appreciate that, sir."

"So, if you're not going to be an Auror, what were you thinking of doing with your life?" It was pretty clear that Scrimgeour didn't think Harry should be making that decision.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile. "I'm not sure yet."

"You should consider it carefully," Scrimgeour advised in a fatherly tone. "On another matter entirely, I understand there are sympathizers at Hogwarts."

"Sympathizers?" Harry had a bad feeling about the use of that word.

"Of You-Know-Who."

That Scrimgeour would use that particular epithet annoyed Harry. Of all people, he should know better. "You can say his name now. Voldemort is dead."

Scrimgeour winced at the name. "Indeed. So, do you know of any?"

"Excuse me?" Disbelief and anger coiled inside Harry. Scrimgeour was such a prat.

"It's a simple question." There was an unpleasant edge to his voice now.

"Good grief, Minister. If someone were a supporter of Voldemort, they would hardly tell me about it." And even if someone had, the chances of him telling Scrimgeour were nonexistent.

"You must have suspected some of the students, especially some of the Slytherins, were in league with You-Know-Who. Draco Malfoy, perhaps. By all accounts he treated you fairly poorly through the years."

Harry was smart enough not to go near that question. He had his issues with any number of Slytherins, Malfoy included, but he wasn't going to handle them this way. He blinked innocently at Scrimgeour. "I can't say that I suspected any of them of that."

"Surely there was someone you suspected?" Scrimgeour pointedly looked across the room. At Snape.

"No. Never. You are so wrong. You can't possibly think that," Harry spat, more than outraged. He had to clench his hands together to keep from reaching for his wand.

"Oh, but I can, and do, believe that."

"He's worked for the Order through the whole conflict. He was loyal to Dumbledore and the Light."

"Dumbledore is dead. Rumor has it that Snape had something to do with it." Scrimgeour met his eyes.

"He was, and is, Dumbledore's man, just like I am." Harry put the weight of his convictions behind the words. There was some part of him that was never going to forgive Snape or Dumbledore for what happened, but that wasn't for Scrimgeour to know.

"Even if he had nothing to do with Dumbledore's death, we've only got his word that he was not a double agent."

"His word and the rest of the Order's. And mine." Harry folded his arms over his chest and glared at Scrimgeour.

"I'm rather surprised you feel that way. I understand he has been quite cruel to you while you have been at school."

That was true, but, "He also trained me. And he saved my life more than once over the years. I admire him a great deal." Which might be pushing the point a bit, Harry conceded, but he couldn't mention why Snape had done more for him and their cause than anyone had a right to expect.

"I see." Scrimgeour did not seem pleased at all. "I'm rather disappointed in your attitude."

Not half so disappointed as Harry was. He could not believe Scrimgeour was out to get Snape. "I'm sorry, sir. Snape is a good man. He was on our side." Or maybe he should say Snape was on the side of light. He no longer had any idea whose side Scrimgeour was on. Maybe just his own. Which now that Harry thought about it, made a lot of sense.

Harry started for the table, and changed his mind, veering off towards Snape. Best let Scrimgeour know where _his_ loyalties lay.

Snape stood with his back to the wall at the far edge of the room, near the door.

"Sir," Harry said, with a tentative smile. Although he'd seen Snape at Ginny's funeral, and those of the other students killed, Harry hadn't talked to him since before the battle the previous weekend.

"Potter. What do you want?" Snape's tone was as cold as ice, and Harry wondered if it were him or just Snape's discomfort in his surroundings.

"I just wanted to see--"

"What?"

"How you were faring with all of this." Harry waved a hand to encompass the whole room.

"Why?"

"Ah..." He didn't have a good reason handy. So much for trying to make small talk. He should have known better than to try it with Snape.

"Why don't you go back to your friends? Or should I say your lovers." A bit of bitterness had crept into Snape's voice.

Harry couldn't believe it. Not Snape, too. "You didn't really..." He looked at Snape and sighed. Yeah, it looked like he did. Harry's shoulders slumped.

There was an infinitesimal relaxation in Snape's stance. "They said it, and you agreed with it, what was I to think?"

"That we were joking, perhaps. Ron has _no_ interest in men, and I mean at all."

The look Snape gave him was faintly amused. "I've always suspected that he would make an exception for you."

It occurred to Harry that Snape shouldn't have been thinking of that. He blushed, feeling his whole face glow with it. "Um. No. Not even for me. Not like you and --"

"Do not presume anything, Potter. You would be wrong." And God, he sounded as if he hated the very idea, except that Harry _knew_ that he didn't.

"But --" Harry could tell by that look that he was about to step in it. "That's different."

"It's quite obvious that both Weasley and Granger have feelings for you."

Harry could take a hint when he was hit over the head with it. "Of course. They are my best friends. But it's not like that. With either of them."

"Why did you change your mind in mid-step and come over to me after speaking with the Minister?" The way Snape changed the subject was enough to give him whiplash.

Harry took a breath and started to tell Snape about his conversation.

"That is most disturbing." Snape's tone was as cold as before, but Harry could hear something beneath the icy calm. Something that sounded like fear.

"Scrimgeour has nothing on you. It's not going to happen." Harry wasn't sure he could make that promise. But he owed Snape more than he could ever repay and he'd do his best to see that Scrimgeour's attempt to hurt Snape failed.

"Need I remind you that there is a mark of guilt tattooed on my arm?" Snape rubbed his forearm absently, perhaps even nervously.

"No. I'll bet that I could help you get rid of it."

"I doubt that. It's been tried. It's a magical tattoo. Once it is affixed to the skin it cannot be removed. Not without removing the appendage that goes with it."

"What about replacing it with something else?" Harry thought that it couldn't be that hard to do. All he'd have to do was concentrate....

"You don't have the power." Snape seemed almost pleased to stymie him. Or maybe he was pleased that Harry's powers had receded like they were supposed to.

"I could try." It was odd, but he felt as though he _knew_ what to do to make the mark change.

"If you were to fail, no doubt I would be worse off than before. No. I don't think so."

Harry wasn't ready to give up yet. If he had a chance to work on it, he was sure he could do something about it. "I'm just saying --"

"I do not need your help, nor do I want it. Go back to your friends. I see they are waiting for you." Snape waved dismissively towards the table.

Harry looked across the room, and Hermione waved to him. He'd let Snape have this round. "Fine. I'll see you in class on Tuesday."

At the table, Harry sat down with a huge sigh. He'd had enough of this celebration already.

"I saw you talking to Snape. Are you okay?" Ron asked, glancing around. Thankfully, they were the only three who were within listening distance.

"Yeah. He was as pleasant as ever." Harry was annoyed that Snape had been acting that way, especially since he'd been trying to help.

"What did the Minister have to say? It looked like a pretty intense conversation," Hermione said.

"Oh, it was. I'm not happy about it either." Harry told them what Scrimgeour had implied.

Ron shook his head. "What a prat."

"The question is what are we going to do about it?" Hermione was always ready to take on a cause.

And this one needed taking on, Harry thought. The very idea of Scrimgeour's underhandedness made him livid. "He can't be allowed to do this."

"What can we do? Scrimgeour is the Minister of Magic. He is in power and we're not." Ron's expression said he was ready to stage a coup, if Harry were willing.

He wasn't. Not yet, anyway. "We can't let him get away with this. We need to do something." Harry's stomach roiled and he pushed the plate that had appeared in front of him away.

Hermione scowled. "He's only doing this to appease the public about what happened in Hogsmeade."

"Bunch of bloody sheep, if you ask me," Ron said.

"They are going to end up giving him more power. It won't be the Death Eaters trying to exterminate the Muggle-borns, it will be the Ministry slowly taking over everything. This kind of thing has happened before throughout history." She sounded worried, too.

Harry felt a chill run up his spine. She was right. Scrimgeour didn't want to give up or share his power. And now with Voldemort gone, there was no one to threaten him.

Before Harry could respond, Scrimgeour took his seat beside Harry, smiling at him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes sir," Harry lied, also smiling.

* * *

  
Part 9

Harry thought he'd be grateful when classes began again, but over the last few days he'd felt more and more unnerved by the amount of power amassing within him. As hard as he tried to drain it off, or control it, nothing worked for long. It took all of his concentration just to hold still.

Ron and he had tried flying again. If anything, it had made the jitters worse. He hadn't slept at all the night before. Although the idea filled him with dread, he was going to have to talk to Snape about it.

Maybe after class, Harry thought taking his seat. He glanced at Hermione. She held a copy of _The Prophet_ and Ron was reading it over her shoulder. It must be bad for them to be doing that in Snape's class.

"What?" Harry asked, trying not to let his edginess show. He held his book tightly so that his hands wouldn't tremble.

"There's a horrible article about Professor Snape --" she stopped as the door to the classroom banged open. "Later." She shoved the paper into her bag. Ron settled into his seat, carefully not looking at Snape.

As Harry glanced around, he saw several other students also put the paper away quickly. Snape probably saw it, too. He looked like thunder waiting to happen. Harry's stomach sank. This was probably the last thing he needed with the way he was feeling.

"Put your books away and spread out," Snape ordered, marching to the front of the room. He flicked his wand at the blackboard. "You have five minutes to identify this potion -- and you will need to know what it is to brew it correctly -- and thirty-five minutes to brew it." He sneered at the class. "Anyone who fails to brew it correctly will lose ten points and have to brew it again tonight in detention."

Harry heard a gasp from someone near him and thought it was probably Ron, but he wasn't going to look around to see. Focusing on the board, Harry read through the ingredients. He thought he recognized the potion as a burn healing balm, but he couldn't concentrate well enough to be sure. It probably wasn't that easy, Harry thought, but he had to go with it or risk a failure for the day.

"Excuse me, sir. Was this in the readings?" Malfoy's tone was as obsequious as Harry had ever heard it, which probably meant that he didn't know either.

"No questions. This is not a group activity. Five points from Slytherin." Snape sneered at the whole class. "Anyone else?"

Harry kept his head down and chopped his ingredients. Maybe if he just followed the directions, it would work as it was supposed to.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry groaned to himself. He should have known better, should have left the class before he started. His cauldron was melting. He hadn't done that since he was a third year.

Snape stalked over to him, a grim, ugly look on his face. "You obviously don't have any idea what you're doing. Not that you ever did, but this shows just how hopeless you are." He sounded almost pleased. In an angry way. "The dragon scales were supposed to go in before you add the milk thistle. You'd know that if you'd paid attention."

As if Harry could pay attention to anything right now. "Yes, sir."

"You tried to brew this without knowing what it was, didn't you?" Snape's tone was a knowing sneer. He sounded like he was enjoying humiliating Harry which, knowing him, he probably was.

"No sir. But it wasn't in the --" He'd read the chapters. Harry had learned almost as soon as he stepped foot in Snape's advanced potions class that showing up unprepared was a recipe for disaster.

"Silence! You are a fool, Potter. You're trying to get by on your celebrity, yet again --"

"That's not fair." Harry's blood pressure started to rise, along with his anger. He wasn't going to be able to cope with this right now.

"Don't you dare interrupt me, you lazy boy. It's quite clear you think the rules don't apply to you."

"That's not true!" Harry said, trying not to take it personally. Snape going off on him was hardly new, but his temper was starting to slip. "You know it's not true."

"I know nothing of the sort. And I know you well, boy. You break the rules with shocking regularity. You have a detention for tonight. We'll see if you can brew a successful potion. And another for tomorrow for that disrespect."

"Disrespect!" Harry took a breath. He was an inch away from blowing up at a teacher. Getting expelled would not be the way to further his academic career. He took another breath. "Yes, sir," he said through his gritted teeth.

"You never learn, do you? You have a third detention for the following night. Now, clean up this mess and get out of my classroom."

Snape turned his back, dismissing him. By the time Harry made it into the hall, he was shaking with rage. How dare Snape treat him like that? He didn't care how bad Snape's day was, he didn't have the right to take it out on him that way.

Instead of going to lunch, Harry decided maybe it would be better if he stayed and tried to reason with Snape. Not that he thought it would do much good, but he needed Snape and he knew it. Maybe if he apologized... but God, that grated on his pride.

Both Ron and Hermione looked surprised to see him as they came out of the potions classroom. "Harry, you don't want to try and talk to him now." Hermione pulled him over to the side of the corridor. "He gave out four more detentions. One of them was to Malfoy."

That didn't sound good at all. But Harry had to talk to him or he was going to go mad. "What did the article say?"

"It implied that Snape had been a double agent and had murdered Dumbledore. The same thing that Scrimgeour has been saying. There was no real evidence behind it, just hearsay." Ron shook his head, looking disgusted. "You know I hate him as much as anyone does, but this isn't fair."

"I know it's not." It made Harry angry, too. Even if Snape was the biggest prat in the world, he did not deserve that.

"It also intimated that Snape didn't deserve the Order of Merlin. That he and all the other Slytherins at the school were secretly in league with You-Kno...Voldemort," Hermione said, also looking angry.

Ron blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Scrimgeour has to be stopped."

"We're not going to do it now. Let's go to lunch." Hermione took Harry's hand, clearly meaning to lead him away.

Pulling his hand out of hers, Harry shook his head. "No. I need to talk to him about something else, too."

"Harry, you need him again, don't you?" It wasn't even a question. She knew the answer at this point without having to ask.

"Yeah," Harry said, his stomach fluttering with butterflies.

"Really, though, now is not the time." Ron put a hand on Harry's arm as if to stop him, even though Harry hadn't moved yet.

Harry shivered as he met his eyes. "I'm not going to make it through the day."

"Do you want us to wait for you?"

As much as he wanted them to stay, he knew he couldn't ask that of them. "I've got to do this on my own. You guys go to lunch."

* * *

  


Harry pushed open the door, his chest tightening unpleasantly. Snape stood at the front of the class looking out, but clearly not at anything.

"Professor?" Harry kept his tone respectful and low. He didn't think he could manage contrite or Malfoy's fawning, but his usual casualness was not going to sway Snape.

Snape's head snapped around and he glared at Harry. "Get out. Now. Before I take more points."

"Please, sir. I have to talk to you. It's important." Some part of him winced at the pleading in his voice. And another part said to do what he had to do to get through to Snape. He needed him right now.

"I have nothing to say to you. Nothing at all. Get out." Snape sneered menacingly. "If you don't leave right now, I'll give you another detention."

So much for being obsequious, Harry thought, gritting his teeth and trying to keep his temper in check. "Why are you being so unreasonable?"

"One more word, Potter."

"Sir --"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being so foolish as to doubt my word," Snape spat out.

Harry took a deep breath and prayed for patience. He was ready to explode and he needed Snape's help. "I need --"

"Do you really think I care what you need? You stupid, inconsiderate boy! You have another detention for Friday. And twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry felt the power rise in him again, his anger feeding it. A voice in his mind whispered that he could take care of this problem once and for all. Another voice, this one sounding reasonable, reminded him that he needed Snape. Retreat was not something he did willingly, but it was clear that Snape was too upset to deal with him right now. Still shaking, Harry turned and left without another word.

* * *

  


In the Great Hall, lunch was almost over. Most of the teachers and students had finished and gone on to their next class. Malfoy appeared as soon as Harry stepped in, and there was an evil grin on his face. What was it about Malfoy that he knew the exact worst moment to strike?

"If you know what's good for you, Malfoy, you'll just get away from me," Harry warned, hoping for once Malfoy might actually do something reasonable.

"Well, Potter. Tell me you weren't stupid enough to try and talk to him in that mood? But you were that stupid, weren't you?" Malfoy laughed, snidely.

"Shut it, you idiot." The last thing Harry thought he could deal with was Malfoy. But he wasn't going to turn tail and run, either. Aside from everything else, he was hungry and needed to eat something before class.

"Oh, look. There is Gryffindor, thirty points down from where it was ten minutes ago. He might have been on your side, but he's really one of us."

"You don't know him at all, do you Malfoy." Harry couldn't believe he was going to defend Snape.

"I know him well, Potter. Very well." There was a definite innuendo in Malfoy's voice.

Rage washed over Harry, cold and possessive. Snape belonged to him. "I don't think so. Malfoy, if I were you I'd quit while I was ahead." Harry tried to push past him, but Malfoy blocked him.

"Where are you going? Are you afraid of me?" Malfoy seemed to find that even more amusing.

Harry did not. His hands clenched and he wanted to go for his wand. "Let me pass."

"And if I don't? Will you hurt me?" Malfoy raised his hands to his cheeks in mock fear. "Oh, I'm so scared."

Anger exploded through Harry, giving him some measure of control, but not the kind he needed. It was too late for that. He turned to smile at Malfoy. "You should be."

Without drawing his wand, Harry pushed out with his magic. Malfoy stumbled back. He didn't look so pleased with himself anymore. Indeed, he looked scared to death.

That pleased Harry. He pushed again. Malfoy flew across the room and hit the wall. Not hard enough to hurt him, but Harry was sure he'd had the breath knocked out of him.

A voice said he could kill Malfoy if he wanted to. But as much as he hated Malfoy at that moment, he didn't want to kill him. He did like holding Malfoy against the wall, with his feet dangling off the floor. He liked that terrified look, too.

"Harry! Harry! Stop!" Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts, but he didn't want to talk to her right now. No, he wanted to keep dangling Malfoy. She would make him stop. He knew she would. He wished that she would go back to the tower; he'd talk to her later.

In his mind he saw her land on the carpet of the common Room, looking rather annoyed with him.

Harry focused again on Malfoy. He looked even more scared now. Well, Harry supposed he had a right to be.

"Potter!" Snape sounded angry. "Stop this at once."

He hated it when Snape yelled at him.

"Potter! Let Mr Malfoy down. Now." Clearly, Snape wasn't going to go away, like Hermione had.

But Harry wasn't ready to stop.

He sighed. If Snape were that angry with him, then he supposed he'd better do what he wanted. He'd lost enough points today. Waving his hand, he released Malfoy, who fell to the floor gasping.

"Potter. What have you done?" Snape asked and glanced around.

"What?" Harry felt the rest of the world slowly coming back into focus. There was glass everywhere. He looked up. All of the windows in the Great Hall were broken. Had he done that? His heart started to pound uncomfortably as shock slammed through him. "Oh God," he whispered.

"Fix them," Snape ordered.

Harry wasn't sure how he could do that, but he closed his eyes and concentrated on it. Slowly, all of the shards of glass made their way back together, and then back into the windows. It was hard work and Harry was sweating heavily by the time he was done. But the windows were all fixed.

Drained beyond words, Harry looked back at Snape. "Okay? You're not angry at me any more?"

"No, I'm not. I should be, though." Snape stepped closer and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry." Leaning into the touch, Harry sighed, not realizing how much he needed it until he had it. As if he understood, Snape slipped his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"I should have listened." Snape looked worried, but thankfully not scared.

"What happened?" Harry turned into Snape's embrace, hoping Snape would pull him closer.

Snape obliged him. "You don't know?"

He tried to concentrate. He remembered coming into the Hall and Malfoy teasing him. "How long did I hold him?" He glanced at where Malfoy was, but he was gone now. As a matter of fact, the Hall was completely empty. "Where is everyone?"

"Gone to class, I suspect." Snape's tone was surprisingly mild.

"Shouldn't you be in class now, too?" Harry's voice shook. The very last thing he wanted was for Snape to go away.

Snape chuckled wryly, and shook his head. "I've got a bigger problem to deal with."

"Me?"

"I think we shall need to do something about what just happened."

He was going to be expelled this time, Harry just knew it. The irony that Snape wasn't screaming for it this time wasn't lost on him, either. "That's not all we have to do."

Snape looked resigned. "I know."

Stepping back, Harry looked back at the windows. "Did I do that?"

"Quite spectacularly, actually."

"Was that a compliment? I'm shocked." Harry forced a laugh, but he felt the power roil through him again. "I need..."

"Let's go." Snape held out his hand for Harry to go first.

* * *

  


Snape closed the door behind them and warded it. He turned back to face Potter, ready to reprimand him for what happened. The boy needed to learn that there were limits, especially given his power.

Potter wasn't looking at him. He was breathing shallowly as he stared at the floor, as if he knew he was to be chastised for what he'd done. In a flash of intuition that had rarely steered him wrong, Snape realized that punishing Potter was not what he needed. Instead, he stepped forward, folding Potter into his arms.

A tremor went through Potter's thin frame. Then another. His shoulders started to shake. The reaction wasn't surprising after everything, Snape thought, holding him tighter, and rubbing his hands up and down along Potter's back.

"I'm sorry," Potter murmured over and over, while trying to catch his breath.

Snape said nothing, smoothing his hand over Potter's trembling back. There would be time to talk later.

When Potter finally raised his wet face, Snape ran the back of his hand down his cheek, and bent to kiss him.

"But --" Potter sputtered out.

"Shush, now. It will be all right." Snape wasn't sure of that, but it was clear to him that Potter needed reassurance and some vengeful deity had chosen him to provide it.

Before Potter could answer, Snape kissed him again. His own body tightened in anticipation. It had only been a little more than a week since the last time, but damn, he'd missed it. Snape made a mental note to not let it go so long again. Though, really, it looked like he was going to be doing this on a regular basis for the foreseeable future.

The problems inherent in whom he would be sleeping with did not bear thinking about. He'd deal with it later. Or not at all.

Snape slid his fingers into Potter's messy hair, enjoying the feel of the soft strands moving over his hand. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into Potter's open mouth, mapping along the moist surfaces. Tightening his arms around Potter, he gathered him closer. Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, Potter felt better than ever in his arms.

He'd kissed Potter as least a hundred times in the last few weeks and he still found the experience uniquely satisfying. Of course, the uniqueness could be that Potter was male. Snape pulled back from that thought, not a place his mind should be going right now.

He concentrated his efforts on kissing Potter, on making him forget, at least for the moment, what had happened in the Great Hall. Before that, in his classroom, as well. Snape hated to think about how badly he'd miscalculated the incident in class today. At his age, Snape knew he should be able to keep his temper more tightly controlled.

Potter was unusually passive as Snape slid his robe off his shoulders. He stood still as Snape stripped him bare, not helping, responding only when prompted. Snape wasn't sure he liked the reticence in the boy.

No, he wasn't going to think of Potter as a boy. Not if he wanted to be able to do this and to keep doing it. As young as he was, Potter was a man. And it was Snape's responsibility to see to him.

So much for freedom.

Snape let out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Potter asked, pulling back to look at him.

"Nothing is wrong." Snape made to kiss him again, but Potter pulled away.

"If this is going to work, we'll need to be honest with each other." Potter sounded as if he knew this had become long term.

Any number of rejoinders about how this wasn't going to work, or not needing it to work, came to Snape's mouth, but he bit them all back. Better than most, he knew things didn't get better by denying them. It was why he'd gone to Dumbledore in the first place.

Instead, he put a hand on Potter's face and made him look at him. "Shush, Potter. We'll discuss it later."

"No. I think we need to discuss it now."

Snape ground his hip against Potter's. "Do you? And how coherent do you think you'll be?"

Potter laughed at that. "Point."

"Come along, then." He took Potter's hand and led him into his bedroom.

Drawing Potter into his arms again, Snape leaned in and kissed him deeply, allowing himself to fall into the kiss, and hopefully, taking Potter with him.

Moaning softly, Potter let him lead. His arms came around Snape's shoulders, drawing him nearer. Slowly, surely, the pleasure built between them. After a time, Potter's fingers found his robe buttons and with charming alacrity, he divested Snape of his clothes, tossing them to the floor.

More than once in the proceedings, Snape had thought about protesting the abuse of his clothes. However, given the supposedly transitory nature of their interaction, he had let it go. Now that it looked like this was going to be a more permanent event, he pulled away and scowled at Potter.

&lt;&gt;Begin as you mean to go on, he'd always thought. Well, it wasn't the beginning per se....

"Were you raised in a barn?" he snapped.

It took a second for Potter's eyes to clear, and then he looked shocked. "What?"

"You throw your clothes on the floor and mine as well."

"You threw my clothes on the floor --"

He did have a point, but, "Not that you care."

"Well, no."

"I care. My clothes must last me for the term."

"Do you really want me to stop what I'm doing to fold them up? Really? Now?" Potter sounded wonderfully incredulous.

"I dislike cold wrinkled clothes." Snape bent down and retrieved them, folding them neatly and sent them floating towards the chair by the fireplace. "In the future --"

"What future?"

"Surely you don't think we'll be able to part for any length of time. Or to cease doing this." Snape waved a hand between them.

To his amazement, Potter blushed. "I guess I haven't wanted to think about it long-term."

"Potter, don't you realize that we've bought the wizarding world's freedom from the Dark Lord at a high price."

"You don't have to do anything, you know. I mean --"

That was probably the most idiotic thing Potter could have said. Snape sneered at him. "You foolish, foolish boy. What shall I do? Leave you to founder on your own? Let your power build up until you are so out of control you injure yourself or someone else?"

Potter looked shaken by the thought, and glanced down. "I think the price is higher for you than it is for me."

"Tell me that again in ten years." When he was still stuck with his old, bitter teacher, and unable to have a relationship with anyone else.

"We'll just have to make the best of it," Potter said, stepping forward and sliding his arms around Snape's waist.

"Gryffindor." Snape conceded that holding Potter in his arms was not so great a hardship as it should have been. There was something colossally wrong with that. Snape wasn't ready to think about it yet. Not with Potter's hands doing such delightful things to his bare flesh. He moaned as Potter's mouth attached itself to his neck.

Merlin, he could become addicted to this, Snape thought as Potter knelt on the floor and closed his mouth over him.

What Potter lacked in artful finesse, he made up for in skill and enthusiasm. Snape's thoughts evaporated as he surrendered to the pleasure Potter was creating. Moaning softly, Snape thrust over and over into the wet warmth, letting himself go completely.

A bit later, Potter lay flat on his back on the carpet before the fire. Snape knelt above him, lowering himself onto Potter's hard prick. As he sank down, completely impaled, the realization of what he was doing washed over him. Some part of him recoiled in silent horror. However, most of him already knew he was lost.

* * *

  


As he was dozing off afterward, Snape felt the crossing of his wards in the hall outside his rooms. He extracted himself from Potter's arms and pulled on his clothes. It was time to deal with the aftermath.

He glanced at the sleeping Potter for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. No need to wake him, Snape decided. He closed the bedroom door quietly before he went to answer the front door. As he expected, the Headmistress stood on his doorstep.

"Severus."

"Headmistress." He stepped aside to allow her in. This was not a conversation for the hall.

She turned to look at him. "Are you going to explain?"

"I rather thought you didn't want to know."

"Quite truthfully, I don't. However, I'm afraid I shan't be able to play ignorant about this situation." She waved a finger around the room, and then pointedly at the pile of clothes that obviously were not his. Not unless he'd started wearing Gryffindor colors.

Snape squared his shoulders and met her eyes unflinchingly, but let her make the first move.

"Start at the beginning, tell me everything." McGonagall took a seat on his sofa and gave him a stern look until he sat, too, and started to explain.

When he was finished, McGonagall looked appropriately appalled. "I'm still trying to believe we actually did this."

"We were all so desperate to find something to channel Potter's power that we turned a blind eye to what we were doing, until it was done. I've already told you that we couldn't stop the spell."

"If this gets out, you'll be sacked. I won't be able to do anything about it, either." She actually sounded regretful about that.

Sympathy wasn't going to help him. Snape was smart enough to be terrified that this would be the final tipping point for the Ministry. "Then it behooves us to keep it as quiet as possible, does it not?"

"At least there are only a few weeks of school left."

"Six by my counting." And that was five too many as far as Snape was concerned.

She smiled at him. "Better than six months."

"Must you always look at the bright side of things?" Snape sneered, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Do your best, Severus. I know this whole situation cannot be easy for you."

"It's not. I am, however, resigned to it." He wasn't going to tell her that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He suspected that she really didn't want to know that Potter _was_ compensation.

"That sacrificing attitude isn't very Slytherin of you." Her tone was teasing.

"Minerva, you know me. I'll find a way to make it work to my advantage." He just wasn't sure how he would do that right now. "How are the rest of the children taking this?"

"Thankfully, few enough of them actually saw Mr Potter's floor show. However, the word has gone round the school and back a few times."

"No doubt embellished as it went, too."

McGonagall nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Mr Malfoy?"

"To be released from the infirmary by dinnertime. He was quite shaken by his experience. I'm rather concerned about him. He's been more subdued since he returned to school this past year than in previous years."

"Would that he had not felt it necessary to needle Potter." Snape couldn't believe the boy had been so foolish, especially after Snape had spoken to him.

"It would have saved us no end of trouble. Have you spoken to him?" McGonagall asked.

"Not about this in particular, but in general on several occasions. I shall speak to him again." As soon as he sent Potter back to his dorm.

"I'm afraid he will put two and two together regarding you and Mr Potter." She sounded worried, which pleased Snape.

"I'm sure he will. However, it might not be in his best interests to say anything. He has no love for the Ministry."

"I hope not. He could make a deal with the Minister."

Snape shook his head. "I think that Mr Malfoy is smarter than that."

"I expect to see you for dinner." McGonagall stood. "And Potter as well."

Snape stood, too.

She moved across the room to the door and looked back at him. "Be discreet."

"We shall certainly try to be," Snape promised.

"Thank you. I'm quite disappointed it has come to this."

"It was a means to an end we desperately needed. And it worked. It's hard to argue with that kind of success."

"What of the consequences to everyone?"

Snape laughed at that. "A Gryffindor thinking about consequences? How odd."

"Someone has to," McGonagall said as closed the door quietly behind her.

Snape leaned against the wall and breathed out, heavily.

* * *

  


Harry rolled over, trying hard to ignore Snape's insistent voice. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, Snape would take the hint and go away. He was so tired.

"Come now, Potter. I haven't got all day. And you are not going to loll about in my bed while I have to teach." Snape shook his shoulder.

Oh, bloody hell, he hated it when Snape went all forceful on him. "I'm awake," he growled, forcing his eyes open. At least, Snape's bedroom wasn't very bright.

Snape's bedroom?

The lunchtime events came back to him in a rush. What had he done? And how had he managed it? Harry groaned, wishing he could bury his head back in the bedding. Of course, that wasn't his way of dealing with unpleasantness, but it was a nice thought.

"What's the damage?" Harry asked, leaning up on his elbows to look at Snape who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Not as bad as you're imagining, I'll wager." Snape's expression had a wry amusement to it.

Which, given everything, was a surprise. Snape should be furious with him. "Not as good as I'm hoping, I'll bet. Malfoy?"

"Undamaged."

Harry's relief was real and physical. "I didn't want to hurt him."

"What did you want to do with him?" Snape's tone was conversational, perhaps a bit curious, but nothing more.

That didn't make Harry feel any better about the whole situation. "I'm not sure, but I was pleased that he was scared."

"I suspect he'll think twice about needling you again."

"Good. What else? Wait. Hermione?"

"Was deposited in the common room and is also undamaged. You learned that lesson surprisingly well." Snape sounded unfairly surprised.

"You could just say well done." But Harry knew he didn't deserve praise, quite the opposite in fact. He deserved to be punished for what he'd done.

"You might have hurt or killed her." There wasn't near enough chastisement in Snape's voice. He should be yelling at Harry.

Closing his eyes, Harry dropped back to the bed. He felt sick. "I know. I'm grateful that I didn't."

"As well you should be. She will no doubt require a heart-felt apology."

"Some groveling probably won't hurt either," Harry agreed, sitting all the way up this time. "I hope she'll forgive me."

Snape gave him that don't-be-stupid look. "The Headmistress was here earlier."

Harry's already strung tight nerves stretched further. "Do I even want to know what she said?"

"We have no sanction, but she does understand."

"Better than I thought." At Snape's look, he laughed. "I thought she'd expel me and sack you."

"That wouldn't be very sporting of her, all things considered," Snape said.

While it was true, it was also to be expected that not everyone would be fair or understanding, especially now that Voldemort was dead, and they didn't need him for anything else. "You're taking all of this fairly well."

"As if I had any choice in the matter at this point," Snape snorted, sounding amused rather than annoyed.

"Of course you have a choice. I'm the one without any choices." Yet again, Harry didn't add.

"I don't believe that we need to go through this again. We've discussed it once." And Snape's heavy-handed tone said they wouldn't be doing it again.

Frustrated, Harry glared at him. "You put me off, that wasn't discussing it. I want to talk about what we're going to do now. We need to understand each other. One of these times, I'm going to make you stop and talk about this."

"Potter, let it go."

"No. I'm sexually involved with a teacher!" Saying it out loud sent a shock through him; it wasn't as if he didn't know, but.... Harry drew in a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing pulse.

"You could not have missed that I'm aware of that fact," Snape yelled back.

"Then why don't you want to talk about it? It's going to affect your life just as much as it is mine."

"Talking about it will change nothing. We will do as we must until the situation is under control," Snape said, clearly irritated.

Harry's anger was making it hard for him to think. "Don't you realize it could take years? That we are going to have to stay together for all of that time?"

"I know that, you wittering fool." Snape's expression was as hard as his voice.

"Then why are you taking it so calmly?" Harry was ready to explode with the knowledge of being tied to Snape for that long.

"As I just said, there is nothing I can do about it." Snape sounded completely resigned.

Harry couldn't believe that he was. "You mean, there is nothing _I_ can do. You could walk away."

"So you've said. But as usual, you haven't thought it through at all." Snape put a hand on his chin and made him look right at him. "Potter, if you lose control you could destroy the wizarding world."

Harry shivered, scared. "Or take it over."

Surprisingly, Snape smiled at that. "That might not be so bad an idea, considering what a hash Scrimgeour is going to make of things."

"Thanks. I think." Harry put a hand over Snape's and the pieces clicked into place. "You would control me. Or you think you could."

"I am your control. I don't control you," Snape said primly, but Harry could see the amusement in his eyes.

"No matter what, you'd have greater influence over me than anyone else would have." Harry knew Snape must have considered that.

"I would not concern yourself with such wild imaginings." Snape's tone was perfectly bland. Yeah, Snape had definitely considered it.

"It doesn't matter anyway since I'm not taking over. I'm going to finish school and find something useful to do with my life."

"I expected nothing less. However, at this moment, you must get out of bed and go down to dinner." Snape stood. "I will leave you to dress. When you have done so, floo to the Headmistress' office and go to dinner from there."

Harry nodded. "Good idea."

* * *

  


As Harry stepped off the stairs and the door opened, he saw Malfoy standing by the entrance to the Great Hall.

Now or never, Harry thought, preferring never, but he knew he had to do this. "Malfoy," Harry called as Malfoy was about to move into the Hall for dinner.

The look of fear that briefly appeared on Malfoy's face did not please Harry half so much as it would have just a few days ago.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy's tone held ten kinds of bravado, but it wasn't nearly as belligerent as it normally was.

That didn't make him feel any better either. "Um..." Harry took a breath. "I'm sorry about...earlier."

Malfoy's startled look would have been hysterically funny on anyone else, at any other time. "You're joking, right?"

"No. I'm quite serious. I didn't want to hurt you." He would have said scare him, but all things considered that probably wouldn't have gone over very well with Malfoy.

"You didn't hurt me. But you could have, if you'd wanted to." Malfoy met his eyes and Harry was surprised at the honest fear he saw there. "You're far too powerful for someone our age."

Harry couldn't argue with that. It scared the bloody hell out of him, too. "I wasn't completely in control. It's better now."

"I hope so. I think you need to keep in mind how much damage you can inflict." Malfoy sounded chastising, as if he were a teacher or something.

Despite his being right, it still annoyed Harry no end. "I'm not sure where you get off telling me that. I know you were scared --"

"Potter, you need to learn to quit while you're ahead." Malfoy turned on his heel and walked away.

"Harry," Ron called as he stepped off the main stairs. "Where have you been, mate?"

Harry hung his head. "Haven't you heard?"

"That you nearly went mad and tried to kill Malfoy? That you broke all the windows in the Great Hall and then fixed them again? That Snape had to talk you back down from whatever height you'd gone to? No, I hadn't heard any of that."

Harry laughed. "Good. You shouldn't listen to gossip."

"Never would. You okay? Were you with..." Ron's face flushed red as he tilted his head towards the dungeons.

"Yeah. McGonagall...." Harry trailed off, he wasn't going to talk about that in the main hall, with everyone around.

Ron understood anyway. "I'm surprised she's allowing it."

"It's not like she's got much choice unless she wants to expel me." Harry wasn't sure that she still wouldn't do that, but he didn't mention it to Ron.

"You need to keep it under better control." Ron seemed uneasy.

That startled Harry more than anything else had. "Are you okay with it?"

"It's scary, but on the other hand, it's you." And that seemed to be all there was to that for Ron. "Here comes Hermione. I think you'd better apologize. Nicely."

"Right." As Harry waited for her to get to the bottom of the stairs, Ron slipped past him into the Great Hall.

Not looking at all pleased, Hermione stopped before him and folded her arms across her chest. She waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, looking at his shoes. He wished he could have taken it all back, that there was some way to redo this day from the beginning.

"What did you think you were doing?" Her tone was faintly admonishing, but not nearly so much as he'd expected. She probably wanted to rail at him, but for some reason she wasn't going to.

It made him feel all the worse. "I wasn't thinking at all. It was so strange --"

"Wait. You didn't know what you were doing?" Her tone was not quite frightened.

It made him want to vomit. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He didn't want anyone to be afraid of him, even Malfoy. "I did. But it was like I was in a pleasant fog or something. I could make things happen, but it wasn't quite real."

He realized the lure of using his power was like drinking too much firewhisky, intoxicating. It could easily become addictive, especially given how much he'd loved wielding it. He resolved never to let it get to that point again.

"Well, you certainly did what you wanted, didn't you?" Her tone was a bit stronger, more chastising.

Harry was glad of that. He wanted her to be normal with him. "I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't even mean to scare Malfoy. Much. Will you forgive me?" He didn't know what he'd do without her and Ron to support him.

Hermione frowned for one more second, and then she grinned. "It's okay. It was interesting, really. I'm curious to know how you did it, actually."

Harry breathed out a sigh of complete relief. Trust Hermione to find a lesson in anything. Harry explained about the spell Snape had taught him. "I'm not sure you should try it now. It's pretty advanced."

Hermione was quiet for a few seconds. "I can imagine it could be problematic if you don't do it correctly. Rather like Apparating without knowing exactly how." She looked at him. "You know, you could have done real damage."

"I know. Thankfully, I didn't." And he was very grateful. He would not have been able to live with himself if he'd actually hurt anyone.

"Let's go into dinner," Hermione said, her expression was still ever so slightly uneasy.

Harry was not hungry at all, but he followed her into the Great Hall.

* * *

  


After a strained dinner, where only Ron and Hermione had anything to say to him beyond pass the pumpkin juice, Harry went to the library, hoping to study for his NEWTs. Now that he had a future, he supposed that he ought to start thinking about what he was going to do with it.

It was almost curfew when Harry trudged back to the common room, his brain filled with too much information about too many subjects.

As he came into the room, the buzz of conversation dipped noticeably. Every eye in the room felt trained on him. He tried not to cringe. Hermione smiled at him, when he caught her eye. Harry wondered where Ron was.

"What?" Harry said into the silence. The more this kind of thing happened to him, the more he hated having to deal with it. Over the years, he'd found that answering them would be better than letting everyone stew.

Those gathered around looked uncomfortable, but Neville stepped forward. "What happened?"

"With what, exactly?" If he were answering at all, specific charges worked better than a general address.

Neville looked more nervous. "With Malfoy. With the windows. With you."

That about covered it, Harry thought, relieved that no one had asked about Snape --

"And what about Snape?" Lavender asked as she came to join Neville.

Harry sighed. He never could catch a break. With his head held up, he faced them. "I lost control of my power. And Snape helped me to get it back."

"How does one lose control of their power? Will it happen again?" Seamus asked. He actually looked more puzzled than scared.

Hermione came to stand beside him and Harry smiled at her. But Seamus' question made his stomach clench painfully. "I hope it doesn't happen again."

Seamus didn't seem like he cared for that answer at all. "But you don't know for certain that you won't, do you?"

Harry could understand that. The more he thought about what happened, the more he feared it happening again. As much as he wanted to reassure Seamus, and the rest of his friends, he didn't want to lie. "Snape is helping me learn control."

"What I don't understand is why you can't control it as you've always done?" Seamus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't make sense to me."

"All of Harry's potential power has been released, so that he could fight Voldemort," Hermione said, helpfully.

There was a collective indrawn breath. Although no one moved, it felt to Harry as if everyone had taken a step back.

"Wasn't there any other way? That seems so drastic," Lavender said, her voice sounding strained.

"There wasn't. I only wish there was." Even knowing what Harry knew now, he'd still do it again, if he were given a choice.

"We can't really talk about it. It's too dangerous, even now," Hermione said primly, and in a tone that everyone knew better than to argue with.

Except Lavender, of course, who gave Hermione a disbelieving look. "How could it be dangerous?"

"There are still Death Eaters out there." Hermione did not seem at all pleased by the challenge, or it could be that she didn't like being challenged by Lavender, in particular.

Lavender ignored her, and turned back to Harry. "What about your control?"

"With Snape's help, it's manageable. I won't lose control again." Not unless Snape abandoned him. The very thought sent a shard of panic into his chest. He pushed it away. He had to believe that Snape meant what he'd said.

"Are you going to take You-Know ...Voldemort's place?" The question was asked by a third year, whose name Harry could not remember. He had to admire the girl's courage to ask the one thing that was on all of their minds.

"No. Don't be silly. Harry would never do that," Hermione said. But her laugh sounded forced. And by the look of those around, they could tell it, too.

"Are you sure?" Even Neville didn't look convinced.

Harry was, however. "You know me. All of you have known me for years. I'm not going to turn on anyone. I'm not going to suddenly change into someone else. I promise you that."

"You held Malfoy against the wall and broke all the windows." Lavender's eyes were wide and her voice had a definite tremble to it.

That bothered Harry and he wished he knew how to convince everyone else he wasn't going to turn into the next Dark Lord. "I didn't even think about killing him. All I wanted to do was hold him away from me."

"But you could have," Lavender accused, putting her hand to her chest dramatically.

"But I didn't. I wouldn't."

"How can you be sure?" Neville asked.

Harry was getting tired of this conversation. "If you're not going to trust me, I'm not sure what I can say to convince you. Can't you trust me? I trust you."

"We're not the ones with that kind of power," Neville said, quietly.

"You have enough power to cast a killing curse if you wanted to." Harry wanted them to understand that while it might be easier for him to cast a spell. Most spells didn't take any special ability beyond intent.

Neville, Seamus, and Lavender all looked at each other and then at him. He saw understanding come into their eyes.

"I guess we're going to have to trust you, aren't we?" Neville said with a tentative smile starting to dawn on his face. "I do trust you, Harry."

Lavender nodded. "Better you than some Slytherin, who would abuse the power."

"Not all Slytherins are power hungry," Harry felt compelled to point out. "Snape has gone to a lot of trouble to help me. And he always has."

"He's made you pay for it, too." Neville looked a bit green. The subject of Snape was never a good one with him.

"He still did it. If he were evil, he would have left me to die at the first opportunity. Which, if you remember, was my first year."

Everyone nodded to that.

"How long will it take to get all your power under control?" Seamus asked.

"To fully control your power takes years. A wizard or witch doesn't reach their full potential until they are in their late twenties or early thirties. Some never do." Hermione took a breath and opened her mouth again, pretty clearly about to go into lecture mode.

Harry thought maybe he should cut her off before she got going. "Thanks Hermione. I think if there are no more questions that I'm going to go to bed."

"We just want to know what's going on. It's not as if the Headmistress is very forthcoming with information," Lavender said,

There were several murmurs of agreement. Not that Harry would argue either. "You know what I know," Harry said, giving Hermione a small smile and stepping onto the stairs.

* * *

  


Part 10

Late the following afternoon, Harry and Ron were walking along the lake shore, trying to avoid Hermione. She'd decided that this would be the weekend they would start revising for their NEWTs in earnest. As if they hadn't been doing it for most of the term, anyway.

There was a rustling and Harry saw a young boy running into the forest.

He and Ron looked at each other, and then took off after him. The boy was smart enough not to go too far before he leaned against a tree, breathing hard.

"You know, you're not supposed to be in here," Harry said, sounding too much like a grown-up for his own taste.

The boy looked up and wiped his eyes.

Jadrick Parson, yet again.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked. He was a prefect after all and allowed to ask those kinds of questions.

"Leave me alone!" Jadrick snarled, standing up straight and looking as if he might bolt.

Ron moved into his projected path, and Harry moved to his other side.

"Why are you always bothering me?"

"I rather thought we were trying to help you. And before, too." Harry didn't expect the kid to be grateful, but he could at least not be so bloody belligerent.

"Yeah, right." Jadrick turned away from them. "No one is going to help a Slytherin."

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, and there was a note of genuine concern in his tone..

Jadrick glared at them, as if they should know. "They are sending my brothers away, and I'm to stay with my grandaunt for the summer. It's because my father was a Death Eater."

"Where are they sending your brothers?"

"To other relatives. My aunt would take all three of us, but the Ministry won't let us be together."

"How can they do that? Why would they?" Harry didn't understand. He'd thought that they tried to keep families together, especially in these kinds of circumstances.

"My mother died, too." Jadrick didn't volunteer how, but Harry supposed she was killed in Hogsmeade.

With their parents dead, the three of them would need each other for comfort.

"God," Ron breathed. "Your house and property?"

"Will be held by the Ministry and used to support me and my brothers through school. I will have access to what's left when I come of age." Jadrick sounded as if he were reading it from a letter.

"By which time, they will have stripped it of everything of value," Ron guessed.

"They have already said there won't be funds for me to return next year. My family was quite well off."

Harry supposed that Jadrick might have been mistaken, but he suspected that he wasn't. "That is very unfair. There should be something we can do about it."

"As if," Jadrick said, his tone knowing. "To the victor goes the spoils."

"Isn't that a Muggle phrase?" Harry asked, furious that this was happening. Sirius had kept all of his assets, even while he was in Azkaban. But Jadrick, who had done nothing, stood to lose everything.

"The Muggles stole it from Brodric the Brave after the Goblin wars." Jadrick's tone said he knew exactly how the world worked.

At eleven, he really shouldn't be so sure of it, Harry thought. "Well, I do. Not about the phrase, but that they are going to do this to you. I wonder if I can't do something to help."

Ron looked nervous. "What?"

"I could apply for custody of the three of them. Then, their assets would be there in six years when Jadrick reaches his majority."

"You're nuts, mate."

"It would give me something to do while I decide what I want to do with my life. And it would stop the Ministry from doing this." Harry looked at Jadrick, whose mouth was hanging open in shock.

"How old are your brothers, by the way?" Harry wondered what he'd need to do to get this started. He'd have to check with Hermione and see what paper work he needed to fill out. It couldn't be that hard. Maybe Molly Weasley could help him, too.

"Five and eight. You're not really thinking of doing that, are you?" Jadrick sounded quite incredulous.

"Harry...you're not really thinking of --" Ron cut himself off, clearly shocked. "You are. Is this where I point out that you don't know anything about how to raise children?"

"I know how not to raise them. I rather think I'm an expert on that." He knew he was giving too much away with that, but he wanted Ron to understand he was serious.

He supposed that Ron didn't like to think about how Harry was raised any more than Harry did.

"Besides, I like kids."

"You are a kid, yourself," Ron pointed out.

"That might make it easier." The first thing that Harry needed to do was get a place for all of them to stay. Grimmauld Place would not suit at all. He'd heard that there were wizarding manor houses that could be had for the right price. He'd been thinking he wanted to get one anyway, but he didn't want to live in a big place by himself.

"You're barely of age," Ron said, as if that were important.

Harry supposed that it might be a problem, especially if the Ministry were going to make things difficult. "I have to have at least a bit of sway with the Ministry for killing Voldemort."

Jadrick laughed at that. "Yeah, I'd say. The question is why you would want to waste it on me?"

"Why not? You seem like a nice enough kid."

"I'm not a kid, and I'm not nice."

Ron laughed. "Of course not. See Harry, you don't even know how to talk to him."

"Yeah I do." He turned to look right at Jadrick. "If I can do this for you, do you want me to?"

Jadrick looked back at him, eyes unblinking. "I want to understand why you would want to do this. What are you going to get out of it?"

"Because I can. Because it needs doing." Harry also thought it would be a nice safe thing for him to do with his money and it would keep his power in check until he could learn to control it completely.

"That doesn't sound like a good enough reason," Jadrick said, skeptically.

"I have to agree with him, mate." Ron had that worried look on his face again. But Harry knew he'd go along with him.

As far as he could see, this might work for everyone. "I bet your Head of House will help, too."

"If they don't arrest him for being a traitor." Jadrick's eyes flashed with suppressed fury.

"They won't." Harry was not going to let that happen.

Ron interjected, "You don't know that. There was another article in _The Prophet_ this morning." Ron sounded like it made him angry. That probably meant it was worse than the last one. Though Harry wasn't sure how it could have been.

"Maybe it's time for a carefully worded letter to the editor." Harry smirked. "Or maybe Rita would like an interview."

"She'll make you sound mad, if it suits her purposes." Ron sounded as if he were scandalized that Harry would even consider such a thing.

Slowly, Harry was learning to use the things that would work for him. Skeeter was still an unregistered Animagus. "I think she can be made to see reason."

Ron squared his shoulders. "If you can do it, mate, I'm behind you."

A warm feeling stole through Harry. "So, Jadrick, do you want me to look into what paperwork I need to file to get custody or not?" Harry met his eyes and he could see the faintest glimmer of hope.

"All right." Jadrick's tone was grudging and it sounded as if he expected Harry to fail.

Harry wanted to tell the boy that he rarely failed at anything he attempted, but that probably wouldn't change Jadrick's mind. "Okay, so let's go find Hermione and see what we need to do.

"You know, my mum can help you if you actually do get custody. I'm thinking that might get her mind off other things," Ron said, hopefully.

"I'm thinking the same thing," Harry was planning to get more than Molly working on this, too.

* * *

  


"Are you quite mad?" Snape shouted as soon as Harry finished explaining what he had in mind.

While Harry hadn't expected whole-hearted acceptance, he had expected at least a little encouragement. He folded his arms over his chest and scowled at Snape. "I know it won't be easy, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be attempted."

Snape seemed to be trying to bring his temper under control. "I am willing to concede that your heart, misguided though it might be, is in the correct place. Possibly. However, you are insane to try and fight the Ministry on this."

"I can. And I will. Jadrick won't be able to come back to school next year. I just can't let the Ministry take everything that belongs to him and his brothers because his parents were Death Eaters." That unfairness infuriated Harry every time he thought about it. Something had to be done and he was the one with the means and the motivation to do it. He just didn't understand why Snape couldn't see that.

"Perhaps it will not be as bleak as you and Mr Parson believe it to be." But clearly, Snape didn't believe what he was saying any more than Harry did.

"How many of your Slytherins are in the same predicament?" Harry asked. Maybe he could do more than just help one family.

"Why? Do you plan on adopting them as well? Open up your own little orphanage, maybe?" Snape's tone was totally snide.

"You know, that's not a bad idea." Harry liked children and he wanted to help. This might be the ideal way of doing it. He felt good about it.

Snape's face went purple. "Even you, with your excess of foolish Gryffindor optimism, would not actually believe you could get away with that."

"I was thinking of a group home for all the students who've lost their parents. I have to have some political capital from being the Boy Who Killed Voldemort. What better way to spend it than on the children made orphans by the war? I could help a lot of people who really need it."

"Your naiveteì never ceases to amaze me. You will be eaten alive and spat out by the Ministry." Snape sounded awfully sure of that.

And it made Harry furious. "I rather think not. Do you have something better for me to do with my time and energy --"

"There are a hundred better options for you."

"Like what? Be an Auror and hunt people down and kill them? Oh yeah. I want to keep killing people. I've killed enough! I don't want to do it any more. I don't." There were no windows in Snape's dungeon rooms, but everything else rattled ominously. Harry heard Voldemort's dying scream again in his mind. It haunted his nightmares. He would not kill again. Ever. Not if there were any other choice in the world.

"Calm down. I'm not saying you should kill anyone." Snape's voice had softened. "I'm just saying you need to consider all of your options carefully."

Harry forced himself to calm down and let his anger go. "This is something I can do and something I want to do. Why won't you help me?"

"Potter--"

"These are your students. They are being grossly mistreated. They will be so resentful by the time they get to be adults, they will be ripe pickings for the next Dark Lord." The unfairness of it prickled under Harry's skin and made him want to lash out. Which he knew he couldn't do.

"What makes you think there will be a next one?"

Harry couldn't quite imagine that Snape would be so willfully blind. It wasn't like him. "There is always a next one. And the Ministry is practically guaranteeing it will happen sooner rather than later.

"Really, Severus, you have to be able to see the parallels." If Harry saw them, then how could Snape fail to see?

"Be that as it may, I don't see why you feel the need to do this yourself."

Ah, so that was the real question. Harry met his eyes. "Because I can. What I don't understand is why you're fighting me so hard about it. It's in your best interests, too."

"I can't see how. My situation is fairly grim right now, as well you know." Snape sounded as if he were worried.

"Has something else happened?" An unpleasant feeling stabbed at Harry. As far as he knew, nothing had changed.

Snape's look was condescending in the extreme. "Beyond being crucified in _The Prophet_ on a daily basis? And let us not forget that at least one of the rumors is true."

Understanding what Dumbledore had done, and why Snape had agreed, made it easier to bear, but it twisted his heart to pieces any time Harry thought too much about it. He cleared his throat. "Well, I wrote a letter to _The Prophet_ this morning, telling the editor what I thought of his shoddy journalism. I also mentioned I'd be available this weekend to talk to a reporter about the real story."

"Tell me you're joking." Snape put his head in his hands.

"No. I also said I'd give an interview to the Quibbler, and a couple of other interested Euro-wizarding papers."

When Snape raised his head, his face was white. "They will butcher you."

Harry couldn't believe that. "They have made me their hero. I'm going to use it."

"Since when do you bask in your own fame?" Snape asked, sounding a bit shocked.

"Since when do you notice that I don't?" Harry had been hearing the same song and dance from him for years. He couldn't imagine that it would suddenly change.

"Answer the question," Snape demanded.

"Since I can't make things happen any other way." Harry had resisted using it as a weapon for as long as he could, but it _was_ useful and he needed help.

"How very Slytherin of you." Snape seemed pleased by that, but his expression sobered quickly. "Do not get caught up in your own fame. Don't start to believe it."

Of all the things that could go wrong, Harry thought that one was the least likely. "As if you'd ever let me."

"I might not always be there." And that sounded quite ominous.

So much so that a shard of dread pierced through Harry's gut. "Why not?"

Snape said nothing.

The moment of tension faded and Harry could tell the subject was dropped. He was okay with that for the moment since there were other things he'd like to do. "Do you want to...."

Snape shuddered visibly.

Maybe that wasn't a good idea, either. "We don't have to...I mean, if you'd rather not."

With a shake of his head, Snape focused on him and smiled. "No, actually that's a good idea. It will get your mind off these ridiculous plans of yours."

"Plans you're going to help me with, right?" Harry knew he was going to need a lot of help to pull this off, and Snape would be just the start.

"I'm not sure where you get your presumption," Snape said, standing and pulling Harry up against him. "What part of 'bad idea' do you fail to understand?"

"That's just it, I think you know that it's not a bad idea at all." Despite everything, he did expect Snape to help him. It was a daunting task he'd set for himself, and he hoped he'd be able to meet it.

"I've nearly been tried and convicted in the press." Snape pulled up his sleeve. "This will convict me completely. How can you want me anywhere near something you're going to do."

Harry put his hand over the dark mark. There was a faint magical hum. "I can fix this."

Tilting his head, Snape gazed at him. It looked like he might be trying to hide his hope. "All right."

Concentrating, Harry willed Voldemort's mark to change into his mark. He'd had an idea for a symbol for a while now, and he smirked to himself when he thought about the colors he was going to use.

He pressed his magic into the new mark, pressing it also into Snape's skin, trying to force the old mark to give way. Unfortunately, the old mark resisted transmutation. Harry could not understand why, since Voldemort was dead.

Finally, he felt the old mark give under the onslaught of his magic. The new mark slid easily into Snape's skin after that.

When he released him, Snape's eyes rolled back and he slumped over, sliding to the ground in a graceless heap.

Harry used a hover charm to move Snape to his bed, and lay him gently on it. About a minute later, just when he was ready to go call for Madam Pomfrey, Snape opened his eyes. He raised his arm to examine the mark, and winced. "I do not care for your color choice at all."

"There's some green in there." A bit. On the sides.

"More red, gold and orange." Snape's tone was filled with mock disgust. Harry could tell he was pleased with the results.

"Not much I can do about it now. Do you want the old mark back?" Harry was fairly certain he couldn't summon it back.

"No. I suppose I'll live with this. Why this design?"

"I was thinking of calling it the Phoenix Foundation."

"Calling what the Phoenix Foundation?" Snape didn't look like he actually wanted to know.

Harry had to tell him anyway and he couldn't suppress his grin as he did. "The foundation I'm thinking of setting up to help not only the children who are being victimized by the Ministry, but also all the children who have been orphaned by the war."

Snape closed his eyes and breathed out. "There are four other Slytherin children who are in the same predicament as Mr Parson."

"Any others? In other Houses, I mean." Harry supposed if he were going to help one of them, he might as well help them all. The whole idea filled him with a sense of purpose. He knew it was the right thing to do.

"You might ask the Heads of each House. They would know better than I."

"Not tonight, though." Smiling, Harry sat down on the bed and ran a hand along Snape's side and onto his hip.

"No, not tonight," Snape agreed, leaning into the touch.

Harry lay down beside him, and pulled Snape on top of him, laughing at his startled look. "Giving you a new mark was quite draining, I expect you to do all the work tonight."

"Lazy wizard," Snape said, leaning down to kiss him. Funny thing was, Snape didn't sound all that upset at the prospect.

* * *

  
Part 11

By the end of the following week, Snape was pleased that things were getting back to what passed for normal. After Potter's letter to the Editor, _The Prophet_ had not run another article about him, or at least not one so damning.

Potter hadn't given up his damned fool idea of starting a foundation to take care of the orphaned children at Hogwarts. Indeed, he enlisted Granger, Weasley, and several others of his Gryffindor cohorts to help him, not to mention a few more from other Houses. To his horror, Snape had overheard several of the more politically centrist Slytherins talking about joining Potter. He had to fight to keep from cringing.

The doors to the Great Hall banged open with a sharp clap. Snape looked up from his breakfast to see Percy Weasley and a detail of Aurors coming down the center aisle between the two middle tables at a crisp march. Dread spiraled into his stomach.

McGonagall stood up and made her way to the front of the dais. "What is the meaning of this, Mr Weasley?"

"You will surrender Severus Snape for questioning. We have reason to believe he was involved with Albus Dumbledore's murder," Weasley said, his tone imperious. Not half a dozen years out of Hogwarts and Weasley sounded like he was in charge of the world.

Fuck, thought Snape, his heart starting to pound rather painfully, so much for his life. If he could have, he would have preferred to have handled this privately, but even his dignity was going to be taken from him.

McGonagall drew herself up to her imposing height. "Surrender? I think not. If Professor Snape wishes to _speak_ to you, he may do so." She turned to look back at him.

Well, if he were given a choice, he wasn't about to talk to that nitwit Weasley. He shook his head. He knew it wouldn't put off the inevitable, but perhaps it might buy him some time. Standing, he made to leave the room.

"Don't think you can leave. You will come with me now," Weasley said, not looking at him. "Or I will have these Aurors take this school apart brick by brick." The Aurors behind him looked at each other and then back at Weasley, clearly they hadn't expected the threat. But they held their ground and said nothing.

"What proof do you have that Professor Snape was responsible for such a horrific crime? I can have the Order here very shortly and each of them will swear that Professor Snape aided us through the entire conflict. That doesn't sound like someone who would have murdered our Headmaster," McGonagall said, her back straight.

Snape was pleased that she was trying to stand up for him. He knew there were few enough people who would. It seemed a shame that she was wasting what little authority she had on the indefensible. He was fairly sure there would be no saving him.

Weasley looked down his nose at her. "He wears all the proof anyone needs on his left arm. That is where his true loyalty lies."

Snape smirked to himself. Well, they wouldn't get him on that any more, now would they? It wasn't going to matter, of course, and that he was guilty didn't help matters, either.

"It proves nothing. He fought for the light for years," McGonagall said, but her voice had lost a bit of its authority.

"What proof do I have of that? We have every reason to believe he was a double agent." Weasley's tone implied there was more to the charges than just his imagination.

"You have no proof of that either," McGonagall said, returning Weasley's scowl.

"It makes no difference. I'm going to take him with me for questioning. Now step aside." Weasley glared up at her, expecting her to move.

But really, he should have known better.

"I will not," McGonagall said, straightening her shoulders, clearly ready to do battle.

Snape truly appreciated her efforts, but he knew it was time to bring this drama to an end. He moved forward a step, preparing to move across the dais to Weasley.

"Do as I say," Weasley said, and he put his hand on his sleeve as if he were ready to go for his wand.

"No!" Potter stood and advanced on the dais, several of his little group of Gryffindors were with him. He came to stand beside McGonagall. She gave him a quick smile.

"I've told the Minister before that Professor Snape fought on our side during the war and that he trained me. You are not going to take him out of here as if he were guilty of anything," Potter said, his voice every bit as imperious as Weasley's had been.

Shock slid through Snape. Even now, he wouldn't have believed that Potter would have lifted a finger to help him. An inexplicable warmth invaded his chest. As useless as the gesture would no doubt turn out to be, Snape was almost beyond words with gratitude that he wasn't going to be surrendered so easily.

"How dare you speak to me that way?" Weasley looked gob-smacked, his face bright red. Several of the Aurors behind him looked nervous, as if they weren't expecting the Boy Who Lived to stand in his defense.

"Oh come off it, you prat," Ronald Weasley said. "You know you've got nothing on Sn-- Professor Snape." Even as he tripped over the name, Weasley sounded remarkably respectful.

Snape thought the shock of that might just do what the Ministry wanted and kill him. He decided that if he got the chance, he might pass Weasley after all.

"I can't believe you'd defend him, Ronald. You hate him." Percy sneered at his brother.

Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then he glanced at Harry, and straightened his spine. "How I feel about him doesn't matter. He didn't do what you're saying he did."

Potter's gaze was hard, unyielding. "You are not going to make him a scapegoat for the Ministry's incompetence in finding the Death Eaters who attacked Hogsmeade."

"I can't believe you think you can challenge me... I mean, the Ministry. You haven't even left school yet."

Snape wasn't sure why that might matter to anyone. Perhaps he was trying to put Potter in his place. As if that were possible with so hopeless a Gryffindor.

"I'm quite sure I can challenge you, Percy. What's more, I can challenge the Ministry on this as well." Potter smiled at Percy.

It was a smile that Snape had learned to be wary of.

"Don't be so certain of that. You're not that powerful, Potter," Weasley said, nastily. "You can still be put into Azkaban for helping a traitor."

Potter didn't look particularly worried. "There are too many witnesses for you to do anything stupid like threaten me when I haven't done anything."

"What would you call blocking justice from being done? Do you think you're above the law?"

"Do you? Where is the evidence against Professor Snape? Where are your arrest papers? What are the exact charges against him? He's worked tirelessly and at great risk to himself for the Light, and this is how you repay him? I'm appalled. We wouldn't have won without him." Potter looked out at the Aurors, all of whom looked even more uncomfortable.

"He's wearing his guilt and you know it." Weasley seemed quite fond of that accusation as if it answered everything.

"You've said that. But you don't know what you're talking about. As usual." Harry's tone was silky smooth, and Weasley was too stupid to know he was being drawn in for the kill.

"How would you know anything like that?"

"Perhaps, I should show you," Snape suggested as he came forward, removing his robe, and unbuttoning his cuff.

Weasley looked confused and then outraged as Snape bared his forearm. The Phoenix rising tattoo gleamed brightly in the morning light. Garish yes, but Snape was rather pleased to have it right then.

"Now, Harry," Weasley's tone had lost some of the bravado. "Be reasonable. Snape is a traitor and you know it."

Harry's expression hardened. "He isn't. I know that. You know it, too. Now, I want you to leave the school before I get angry."

Snape moved to stand behind Potter. The last thing any of them needed was for Potter to lose control.

"I'm not leaving without taking Snape in for questioning. If he has nothing to hide --"

"No. After this, do you think we'd trust you?"

We? Snape looked up, shocked to find so many students standing behind Potter and McGonagall. As unlikely as it was, there were several Slytherins there as well. Bulstrode and Zabini, he understood, but Malfoy? Even after their conversations, that was a surprise.

Weasley seemed to realize it at the same time. He paled. "He has to leave the school at some point. You can't protect him forever."

"Actually, I'm thinking that I can. Or someone else here can." Potter looked pointedly behind him.

"Move aside." Weasley signaled to two of the Aurors, but they took a step back and shook their heads. "Arrest them."

"I don't think so, Mr Weasley," the lead Auror said. "There's no evidence of a crime. You don't have official sanc--"

"I'll have your jobs for this," Weasley cut him off, his face even more red. But at this point, it was obvious it was all bluster.

The Auror shook her head. "Mr Robards said specifically --"

"Never mind!" Weasley shouted.

Snape wondered what the Aurors' instructions had been. Whatever they were, they didn't include forcing him to go anywhere with Weasley. A great swell of relief washed over him.

Weasley stepped forward as if to mount the steps himself.

Potter shook his head. The windows all rattled and Snape put his hands on Potter's shoulders. "Don't lose control," Snape whispered.

"I won't." But Weasley jerked backward as if pushed.

"What was that?" Weasley moved backward again, and the Aurors moved out of his way.

"You are going to leave now and you are not going to come back to bother us again." This time, Snape was quite sure that Potter had enhanced his voice.

Weasley's eyes narrowed, first with rage and then with fear as Potter pushed him again. His face turned as red as his hair. "Don't...don't think you can get away with this, Potter. You know you'll have to leave the grounds at some point and we'll be waiting." It was rather an ineffectual threat, all things considered.

When Weasley had gone, the Aurors left the Hall without a word. McGonagall turned to Harry, "Impressive show. I suspect we've bought ourselves a world of trouble with it."

"I'm not sure about that. You heard the Auror. It didn't sound like Percy had any kind of real authority," Potter said, sounding as if he weren't as sure as he'd like to be about that. "Besides, we can handle whatever happens."

"'Be that as it may, I want you to come to my office after breakfast. I think there are a few things we need to discuss." She looked out at the students milling around. "Finish your breakfasts. You all have classes in a few minutes.

There was a general groan as the students retook their seats.

* * *

  


Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and he looked up to see Snape watching him with the most perplexed look on his face. As Harry caught his eye, Snape inclined his head and then stood, slowly making his way out of the Hall.

"He's never acknowledged me in any way before this," Harry said to Ron, who was sitting next to him and had seen what just happened.

"I think you've made a friend for life, mate." Ron sounded like he wasn't sure he liked that idea.

And frankly, Harry found it astonishing. "Why do you say that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, really. You just stood up to the Ministry on his behalf. Even someone as bad-tempered as Professor Snape has to appreciate that."

"Actually, he doesn't. And might not. But he should," Ron said.

Harry hadn't thought about it that way. He disliked unfairness of any kind and this particular brand would have impacted him very negatively. Standing, he said, "I have to go see McGonagall."

"I wonder what she wants." Ron stood, too.

"I imagine she wants to make sure that Harry knows what he's doing." Hermione said it as if she knew that Harry hadn't a clue, which would be accurate, of course.

"I hope not." Harry wanted to get out of the Hall. It was starting to get oppressive with everyone milling around, looking at him as if he were on display.

"Potter!" Malfoy called as soon as he'd taken two steps from the table.

Talking to Malfoy was high on his list of things he'd rather not do. He kept walking and hoped that Malfoy would get the hint. "I don't have time right now, I have to see --"

Malfoy followed him to the edge of the room. Both Ron and Hermione glanced their way, and then moved over out of the way of the exiting students to wait for him.

"Yes. I know. I'm here to help you with that." Malfoy looked perfectly serious, intense almost. As if the conversation were quite important to him.

Harry couldn't quite believe it. Or what he was saying, either. Malfoy was offering help? Surely the world wasn't ending. "You're joking, right?"

"Not in the slightest." Malfoy sounded serious, which did not make Harry feel any more secure.

"Why should I believe you? Why should I trust you?" From where Harry was standing, and had been standing for the last seven years, Malfoy was the last person he'd trust. Well, perhaps not dead last, but certainly near the bottom of the list.

"It's in my best interest to see that things go well for you. Can we talk about this privately?" Malfoy still sounded way too serious for Harry's peace of mind.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who were just inside listening range, but clearly not going to interfere with them. "I don't trust you. I do trust them. What do you think?"

Malfoy gave him an assessing look. "I want to help you with what you're doing. I have the assets and contacts to do so."

"How? And what do you want for your help?" If Malfoy did want to help him, for whatever reason, Harry knew it would not come for free. That as much as anything made him wary of anything Malfoy might say. Malfoy had no greater goals, no causes. It was all personal gain with him.

"I can put you in contact with several pureblood families who would support you in what you're trying to do. I mean that both politically and financially."

"I don't need the money," Harry snapped. Money was the least of his needs.

"However, politically, you do need help." Malfoy said it as if he were sure of that, and much to Harry's chagrin, he suspected Malfoy was right.

However, the wrong kind of help would be worse than no help at all. Harry thought about laughing in his face, but sneered instead. "Are these former Death Eaters? Followers of Voldemort?"

Malfoy shook his head, his expression never changing. "Not Death Eaters. But they are people who have rethought their allegiances over the last few years."

As Voldemort became more and more mad, Harry supposed a lot of the more rational people might have done that. "That still doesn't change the fact they wanted to get rid of all the Muggle-borns and kill the Muggles."

"That's what Voldemort became. That wasn't what he was to start with. Don't you know your history?"

"Does it really matter? They supported a madman." And that was something Harry would find very hard to forgive, or forget.

"Many of them were trapped by what their parents had done, and by what they had done when they were younger, following someone who they thought made sense."

Harry folded his arms over his chest. "They still knew what was going on."

"Most of then didn't follow Voldemort during his second rise to power, but they couldn't openly support Dumbledore either. And in the first rising, Voldemort talked about putting Wizarding society first. He wanted to leave the Muggles alone."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded. "Of course, now that he's dead, it's easy to disparage him."

"Exactly so. However, with Scrimgeour trying to take over everything, most sane people are looking for a better option. Someone who might get things done. Someone who is not so far into their own agenda they will forget about everything else."

"They are looking for someone to support _their_ agenda. And I am probably not going to give them what they want," said Harry.

"You don't know that until you talk to them."

Why did that sound reasonable? Harry didn't like it when Malfoy sounded reasonable. "I am not interested in politics. At all."

"But that is what this is about." Malfoy looked at Ron and Hermione. "What about Granger?"

"What about her?" But Harry already knew she _was_ interested. She had always been the one to take up causes. "Isn't she hampered by being Muggleborn?"

"Things have to change, Potter. I think that the people I'm going to put you in touch with know that. I think that with the right backing -- which I can provide -- and given ten to fifteen years of hard work, Granger could conceivably be in line to be the Minister of Magic."

Harry heard Hermione's indrawn breath. The very thought stopped him cold. He'd never considered that and was sure that Hermione hadn't either. "Are you serious?"

A slight smile touched Malfoy's mouth. "I never joke about politics."

"Why don't you do it yourself, if you've got all those contacts?"

"Unfortunately, my father's service to Voldemort has ruined my chances or I'd consider it. I'll never be out of his shadow."

As much as Harry hated to admit it, he knew what Malfoy was saying was true, and that wasn't fair either. "I'm still not getting why you'd want to put Hermione in that position."

"There are a lot of reasons."

Harry put his hands on his hips. "For instance?"

"She has a lot of ideas and concerns as well as the will to push them through the bureaucracy -- not everything will pass even with the right support, but she would be new blood in a very stodgy system."

"It would be a near to impossible situation." Harry tried not to sound to defeated about it, but the political situation in the Wizarding world changed very slowly.

"Hard. Challenging. But not impossible. And I think she would have support. I was thinking that even if Weasley works for you for the next couple of years, he still could be head of the MLE after that."

Harry held up a hand before Ron could eviscerate the bastard. "We don't know what's going to happen with that. Why bring it up?" It was true that Ron might not have the grades or the NEWTs to make it into the program, and that he might work with Harry, helping with the Foundation. Nothing had been decided yet.

Malfoy didn't look as if he were trying to goad Ron. Indeed, he still had that serious and intense look he'd had for most of the conversation. "There is more than one way into the Auror program. If you have five years of law enforcement or security experience -- say, setting up the security for a foundation or a school, you can apply then." Malfoy looked at Ron. "As I said, I can put you in touch with the right people."

While Harry was sure Malfoy did know the right people and could be helpful, he could not wrap his mind around why Malfoy would do this. "What do you get out of this?"

"I want the Wizarding world to be a better place. I can see where Voldemort went wrong. He had the power -- as you do -- but he used fear and intimidation, rather than intelligence and finesse. He could have ruled the world if he'd handled it better."

Harry glared at Malfoy. "I don't want to rule the world."

"Don't you want to change things for the better? To stop some of the unfairness in wizarding Britain? You could have a big impact on anything you chose to sponsor. The lycanthropy laws, for instance."

Damn, he would bring that up. Harry glowered at him. "I need to think about it, okay? And before I do that I want to know what you want in exchange for your help."

"What makes you think I want anything more than what I've said?" Malfoy's tone of voice was innocence itself.

And Harry didn't buy it for a moment. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. "I'm not stupid. What do you want?"

Glancing first at Hermione and then at Harry, he said, "I want Granger."

"What! How dare you!" Hermione choked out, sounding more than outraged. Really, she looked ready to kill him. "I am not a thing to be given away."

Harry clenched his hands, forcing himself not to go for his wand or to even think about doing anything else.

A faint redness crept along Malfoy's cheeks. He bowed to her. "My most humble apologies. I stated that badly. What I was thinking was that to be the Minister of Magic, even in the future, you would probably require a pureblood husband. I was merely expressing a desire to be considered."

Hermione looked like she'd been hit with something blunt and heavy. "You don't like me and I certainly don't like you."

"Not entirely true, at least in my case. I only truly hated you until last year. But you've grown up since then and so have I." Malfoy smiled, laying on the charm. "Besides, I know you find me attractive."

"I find you arrogant beyond words, you... you... ferret," she spat.

Harry was surprised at her vehemence. And when did Hermione ever call anyone names?"

"Now, now," Malfoy drawled. "You know it's true." And then he smiled very sweetly. "I notice you didn't deny it."

There was a lengthy pause in which Harry really thought Hermione should be denying it loudly and for all she was worth.

Ron looked green. "He can't be right. Deny it now," he ordered.

A deep red blush blossoming on her face, Hermione refused to meet any of their gazes.

Harry wondered why she wasn't lying about it, even if it were true.

"It doesn't mean anything," Hermione finally said, and her voice was breathy and low.

"Of course not," Malfoy said, his chest puffed out like a frigging peacock. The prat looked like he'd just been handed everything he'd ever wanted on a silver platter.

Harry did not understand. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. How had the world changed so much that a Pureblood snob like Malfoy wanted Hermione? And what was worse, it looked like Hermione might not be completely averse to the idea.

"I have to go and see McGonagall," Harry said. He'd had enough of this for the moment. "I'll talk to you all later."

* * *

  


Harry wasn't sure what to expect as he made his way up the moving stairs to McGonagall's office. He thought he'd made a good show of it with Percy the prat, but he knew it wasn't over yet, especially after his conversation with Malfoy.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "You took your time getting here, didn't you?" Her tone was sharp, annoyed.

Harry gulped. The last thing he needed, on top of everything else, was for her to be angry at him. He looked down at his shoes and mumbled, "I'm sorry. I was waylaid by Malfoy."

"And what did Mr Malfoy have to say that was so important as to detain you?" McGonagall asked. Her disapproval was more apparent than usual.

For a moment, Harry thought about lying, but it occurred to him that he needed her support so he told her the truth.

"I'm not surprised that Mr Malfoy has a good grasp of the political realities you're facing," McGonagall said.

Harry's stomach sank a little at the confirmation. It wasn't as if he hadn't known it already. "That's what I was afraid of."

"You have created much of this situation yourself."

He had to swallow his annoyance before he could answer in a reasonable tone. "I didn't have much choice about the way I killed Voldemort. I mean, what else could I have done?" It was so easy for everyone to judge him now that it was all over.

Harry knew he was going to have to resign himself to dealing with that attitude. He just didn't expect it from McGonagall.

"You could have discussed it with someone else," McGonagall said tartly, clearly meaning herself.

It wasn't that he didn't trust her, either. Mostly it was just that she wasn't the most flexible person he'd ever met. "Voldemort's dead. It's too late to worry about it now."

"Perhaps you didn't have a choice with Voldemort, but you did this morning. What were you thinking to go against the Ministry like that?" Why did she sound like he'd done something wrong?

"What was I supposed to do? Let them take Professor Snape? I need him." He knew he hadn't had any choice this morning any more than he'd had a choice about Voldemort. Or any of the other things that he'd had to do. "You didn't look like you were ready to let them take Snape...Professor Snape, either."

"I am an adult. I know what I'm risking when I make those kinds of choices." Her superior tone did not go over well with Harry.

He straightened up and looked her in the eyes. "And what am I, if not an adult? I've done what's expected of me. I've been forced to kill someone, and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life." Harry hadn't meant to raise his voice, but he was tired of her treating him like he was a child. He was miles and years beyond that.

She looked stunned by his outburst.

Harry felt his anger rise further. "You know as well as I do that if they had taken Professor Snape for questioning they would have kept him. Good Lord, look at how long they kept Stan Shunpike and he was totally innocent." Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Losing his temper with McGonagall was a bad idea. "Do you have any idea how disastrous it would have been for me if they'd kept him?"

"It's not your --"

Harry had had enough of this conversation. She was deliberately misunderstanding him. "All I'm saying is that you can't second guess it all now."

"All right, Harry." She turned and walked to the window, her hands behind her back. "There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about: your relationship with Professor Snape."

The sigh in her tone did not help Harry's confidence. "I thought you knew all about that," Harry said. It was the last thing he wanted to discuss with her.

She turned back and held his eyes. "Professor Snape has informed me of your...need for him. However, is there some other way to resolve this? At least, until the end of term."

Harry could not believe she'd actually asked that. Where had she been this whole time? "We did the spell. I don't think it can be broken and then redone." And truthfully, Harry didn't want to. He would never admit it to her, but he rather _liked_ having sex with Snape.

"It seems we should be researching an alternative spell--"

"Please, just -- no. I can't. What if something else goes wrong? I mean, my power is already unleashed. What if there's more? I don't think I could handle anything more." Harry knew he put just the right amount of pleading in his voice when her expression softened. Relief washed through him.

"We have asked a lot of you, haven't we? And I wish there was more I could do for you, but you've put me into a difficult position. The relationship between the two of you is highly inappropriate." She didn't sound half as displeased as Harry expected.

"I know you can get into a lot of trouble for allowing it to happen. Can't you just pretend not to know? There are only a few more weeks of school left. Snape...Professor Snape and I will be discreet. I promise you that."

"It seems unfair to Professor Snape to continue to require this of him, given his preferences."

Harry could feel a blush steal across his cheeks. "He said he was okay with it."

"It is much more likely that he has resigned himself to it."

"I do need him. I can't do this with anyone else. Really." Harry had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that said he was being selfish. But he could not conceive of giving up Snape. He belonged to Harry.

McGonagall looked at him again, surprised. "You have feelings for him, don't you?"

Of course he did, Harry was ready to snap, but then realized what exactly she meant. "Oh. I never thought about it like that."

She looked at him over her spectacles. "It would not be the best course of action for you to take. I doubt he could return those kinds of feelings."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Harry lied. His feelings for Snape were more complex than he could deal with at the moment.

"Good. Now there is one more thing that I'd like to discuss with you."

"I thought that was the last thing." Harry forced a smile, but he just wanted to get out of her office.

"Despite what you've done and what you're doing, I don't feel that I can give you any special privileges without engendering a lot of resentment." She sounded rather apologetic and perhaps even a bit fearful.

Harry wondered why she would be either. "I wasn't expecting anything." Really, all he wanted was a fair break.

"Very good, then. You may return to your class," McGonagall said, dismissing him.

"Thanks." Harry stood up. "Would you be willing to do me a favor to help with the foundation and those students?"

"What did you have in mind?" McGonagall gave him a weary look, as if she had as many burdens to carry as he did. Harry supposed that she did.

He hated to add to that. "I was wondering if we could stay here for a bit after the end of the term."

"Why not stay at Grimmauld Place?"

"It's no place for children, even for a short time." The thought of forcing the children deal with Mrs. Black's portrait gave Harry shudders.

She raised an eyebrow. "How long?"

"Just until I can arrange housing for everyone."

"No more than a month, Mr Potter." She tapped the desk. "As long as the teachers won't be expected to babysit."

Harry laughed at that. "Hermione and Ron are willing to help. A couple of other students also said they'd stay. We'll be able to keep an eye on all the kids."

"You've got this all worked out, haven't you?" She actually sounded as if she were pleased with him.

"Not all of it. There are still a million details to take care of." Every time Harry thought about them, it scared him to death. He could not believe he was doing this.

"I've been thinking that if you locate a facility big enough, you might also think about a primary school. I've often thought that was a lack in the wizarding world."

"That's a good idea. Do you know anyone who could help me set something like that up?"

"I had been thinking of Remus Lupin. He'd be good at the kind of detail required to administer the school and he's available. It's always been hard for him to find and keep steady employment."

"Thanks. I'll speak to him about it." Harry added that to the ever-growing list of things he needed to do.

McGonagall seemed to know just what he was thinking and smiled. "Good."

* * *

  


Harry caught up with Ron and Hermione as they were going into lunch. "So, Hermione," Harry said as the food appeared. "What exactly was that all about with Malfoy?"

Ron nodded, his expression becoming tense. "Yeah. Because I didn't like the way it looked from here."

"Jealous?" Hermione asked. She had to know that wasn't it at all.

Harry was concerned about her and her inconceivable interest in Malfoy.

"Not likely," Ron said, frowning. "More like worried you're making a huge mistake. How can you even consider it? You know what he is."

"About what?" Neville asked as he sat down next to them.

"Nothing. Ron is being a prat." Hermione pointedly started to eat her lunch.

"What?" Neville looked at Ron this time. And then at Harry. "Is someone going to tell me?"

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that Neville should just drop it, but Ron was already talking.

"It's just Hermione being --"

"Ron!" she snapped. "Let it go."

Ron turned red. "I just can't believe that you could even consider --"

"That I could go from you to --"

"Don't say it. Not if you don't want me to sick up my lunch." Ron made a gagging noise.

And Hermione glared at him. "Grow up. I'm not having you thinking you can tell me what I can do with my life."

"Or is it, who you can do?" Ron's smile was nasty.

Neville looked at Harry. "You'd think they were still dating."

Harry laughed, grateful that they weren't. "When they were dating, they were a hundred times worse. They screamed at each other all the time."

"And they're not now?" Neville nodded towards them as they hissed at each other.

"Nah," Harry said. "Ron doesn't like the guy Hermione is thinking of dating."

"I gathered as much. Who is it?"

"I'm not sure I like the idea either." And Harry didn't mention that he wasn't stupid enough to say anything to Hermione about Malfoy. It was the surest way to make her do what he didn't want her to do. And really, Ron should know that.

"Who?" Neville asked again.

Harry looked across the room at Malfoy.

"No way!" Neville's usually pleasant countenance changed to disgusted. "Why would she do that?"

"I think she fancies him."

"I can't imagine that. Ugh...." Neville shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.

"It's not like you like guys anyway, so --"

"Merlin's toes, you don't fancy him, do you?"

Harry hadn't ever considered it before. Malfoy was good looking, but in a cold, blond kind of way. Not at all like what he preferred, not at all like.... He forced the image that sprang to mind away with a sharp shove.

"No. Not at all," Harry said, after clearing his throat.

Neville looked relieved. "Good. I can't believe she'd actually go out with someone like him. I mean, he's so... so... prejudiced."

"Not so much, if he would go out with her. I don't understand it myself. I think he's trying to work his way into our good graces."

Neville was quiet for a moment. "He can be of help to you...to us, with the foundation. He's got a lot of political contacts."

Harry nodded. "I've heard. But I'm not sure I can trust him to help."

"I wouldn't trust him, but I might let him help, if you need it."

"I don't know." There was some part of Harry that wanted to believe that Malfoy could put aside the past, and help them. But he couldn't quite accept it, not yet, anyway.

"Who I like or don't like is none of your business," Hermione's voice raised, and the level of noise in the room dropped for a second or two afterward.

"I still don't understand how you could possibly --" Ron seemed to hear how loud he was in the quiet of the room, and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"I'll date whomever I choose," Hermione said, standing up and scowling at Ron.

She walked away, towards the entrance. Malfoy got up and followed her, stopping her just as she was about to leave.

They spoke quietly, but clearly intensely. The level of noise dropped even further and there was no doubt where everyone's attention focused. After several minutes, she nodded and walked away. Malfoy's smile was far too self-satisfied for Harry's peace of mind.

* * *

  


Part 12

Harry was still trying to process everything when he slipped down the stairs, and made his way to Snape's quarters.

Snape looked up when the door opened. Harry took off the cloak and dropped it over a chair. "Hi," he said, not sure what sort of welcome to expect.

"Good evening, Harry," Snape said pleasantly.

Something in that tone set off an alarm in Harry's head. Snape was never that nice. And wasn't that the first time he'd called him Harry outside of bed? "Who are you, and what have you done with Severus Snape?" Harry asked, laughing nervously.

"What are you on about, now?" Snape's expression closed off a bit, but he wasn't sneering or looking like he wanted to start yelling.

It disconcerted Harry. "You called me by my given name." Now that Harry said it, he felt like an idiot. He wondered if he could sound any more lame.

"I was under the impression that you preferred it." Snape's tone was perfectly bland.

"I do. Really. I just didn't expect you to use it. I mean, since when do you care about what I want?" Harry was confused by the whole nice thing. Why was Snape acting like this? It really wasn't like him.

Snape gave him another considering look and Harry wished he knew what Snape was thinking. He supposed that if he pushed, he could get into Snape's mind and find out, but he doubted Snape would appreciate it.

Snape's look hardened and focused on him. "Do not force your way into my mind."

"And didn't you just do it to me?" Harry reached out with his mind to the edge of Snape's barriers, but he couldn't bring himself to push through them, even though he knew he could easily.

Snape seemed to realize it, too. "Harry...."

"Don't do it to me again." He glared at Snape.

"Sit," Snape said, waving a hand at the sofa.

But Harry was too keyed up. He needed to bleed off some of his energy. "Can't."

"Are you all right? Are you losing control?" There was a definite tenseness to the question and a slightly worried look in Snape's eyes.

Harry supposed, given the examples of what he was like when he was jumpy, he could understand Snape's unease. "This is just excess energy. It's not me losing control. Why did you call me Harry?"

"There is no pleasing you, is there? Don't worry. I shall not attempt it again," Snape growled, but sounded relieved, too.

"I don't understand why you would do it." Harry hated it when the rules changed midstream and with Snape that seemed to happen pretty often.

"You're not that stupid, are you?" Snape tilted his head and peered at him as if he could tell just by looking. "Oh, Merlin, you are."

Harry laughed, relaxing. That, at least, sounded like Snape. "You don't do nice very well."

"Apparently not. You are here for a specific reason, I presume?" Snape folded his arms over his chest.

"Partly. I mean, we don't have to, if you'd rather not. I did want to talk to you about what happened today." Despite, or maybe because of, everything that had happened, Harry trusted Snape in most things. And he could use some advice.

"What in particular did you wish to discuss?" Snape's look was calculating.

"The part where Draco Malfoy offers me his services politically." At Snape's perplexed look, Harry went on, "I thought that since you knew him better than I did, you might know what he's up to."

"In what context do you mean that?" Snape asked, his tone silky.

"Did you know that he suggested that he could help me set up my foundation and get in touch with the right people?" Harry asked, wondering if Draco was going to be the one problem between them.

"I hadn't known he'd carried the idea that far. He and I have talked about you, and what his options are in that regard. He was raised for this kind of thing. He has the contacts you will need, if you truly want to continue with this dammed fool notion of yours."

That sounded even more like the Snape he knew and ...well, knew. "It's not foolish at all. It's going to help people."

"It's going to make the Minister of Magic even more inclined to find a way to do you in." Surprisingly, Snape didn't sound like he wanted that to happen.

Harry was glad of that. He also didn't really believe he had anything to worry about. "He's not stupid enough to try anything."

"I'm not sure why you think you'll avoid it. He can, and no doubt will, bring a great deal of pressure to bear. He _is_ the Minister of Magic. And it wouldn't be the first time the Ministry tried to discredit you." Snape made it sound like a forgone conclusion.

"I was fifteen." Harry did realize he was only seventeen now, but he felt a million years older than he did then. "What should I do?"

"Were I in your shoes, I would try to make a deal with Scrimgeour. Figure out a way that he can get some of what he wants, and does not lose face." Snape smiled in a way that Harry was beginning to recognize as his 'moving in for the kill' smile.

However, Harry wasn't crazy about the idea of a deal with Scrimgeour, even if he could see the benefits. "Any suggestions on what?"

"If you could find a couple of Death Eaters, real ones, I think that might placate him." The smile didn't change.

"I'm not sure where I'd look, especially since a whole team of Aurors can't find them. Do you know where they are?" Harry looked at him and saw the play of emotions over Snape's face. Yeah, Harry thought, relieved that he knew something all right.

"Let me consider it. Or you might speak to Mr Malfoy again," Snape said, but it was obvious that he would help.

Which made Harry even more grateful. "I hate asking Malfoy for anything. It's not like I trust him at all, either. It's going to take more than one conversation with that prat for me to ever consider trusting him."

"No doubt that is very wise." Snape patted the seat beside him. "Let us talk of other, more pleasant things."

Harry's pulse started to pound as he sat down beside Snape. Without another word, Snape put his arm around Harry and gathered him closer. He tipped Harry's face up and kissed him soundly.

For a while, Harry floated with the kisses, doing nothing more than enjoying the taste and texture of Snape's mouth as it moved on his, teasing him ever so leisurely. There was something so bloody wonderful about kissing Snape. Harry could hardly believe that it was true, but now, he wondered how it would be possible to go very long without kissing him.

Slowly, Snape pulled away. "Let's take this to a more comfortable location."

Harry blinked at him, startled by the cessation of pleasure, but then focused on what he'd said. "We should get you a more comfortable sofa."

"Transfigure it anyway you want. Tomorrow." Snape stood and held out his hand.

With anticipation roiling through him, Harry followed Snape into the bedroom.

After that, Harry's world became an elongated blur of pleasure. There was no possibility of coherent thought. Snape made love to him, slowly, thoroughly, and with great attention to detail. Harry would never have believed he could sound so needy, or beg so pitifully, or feel so strongly, as he did when Snape's mouth and hands and body worked him over in that perfect way.

With his back bowed off the bed, his body straining hard, and his hands tearing a hole in the sheets, Harry cried out as incredible pleasure washed over him. He subsided back onto the bed, panting, sweating, and waiting for his heart to slow down.

"Wow," Harry said, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. "That was amazing. Completely amazing."

Snape looked rather pleased with himself. "As it should be when one takes one's time to do it right."

"You mean you think I haven't been doing it right?" Harry tried to work up the energy to be annoyed, but couldn't manage it.

"Of course not, you foolish boy. You're quite skilled, as well you know, but you lack the patience to stretch it out until it's almost unbearable."

Beyond a certain point, Harry had never thought to draw it out. "Maybe next time I can see, if you'd like it?"

"I think that can be arranged." Snape actually looked like he might want that, like it turned him on.

It turned Harry on more, enough so that he said something other than what he'd meant to say. "Can I tie you up to do it?"

"Is that your secret fantasy?" Snape chuckled. And thankfully, he didn't seem averse to the idea.

Arousal roared down through Harry at the image of Snape splayed out before him. Harry could imagine starting at Snape's toes and working his way up, licking one inch at a time, driving Snape mad with want, and hearing him moan and beg. Closing his eyes, Harry shivered as the fantasy played out in his mind.

"Ahem," Snape cleared his throat. "Where are you, Potter?"

"I thought you were going to call me Harry," he said to cover his embarrassment. But he had a bad feeling Snape already knew what he'd been thinking about. A blush heated his face.

"You didn't seem all that receptive to being called Harry," Snape said, smirking at him.

"I am. Truly." He loved the sound of Snape saying his given name.

"And what else are you receptive to?" Snape's tone was a low purr that Harry felt very pleasantly down to his toes. "Would you like to be tied up and pleasured with soft kisses and long slow touches?"

A deep thrill ran through him, and he blushed even more hotly, but still managed to meet Snape's eyes. "Yeah. Oh, yeah."

"I think that can be arranged. But not tonight, I'm afraid." Snape yawned.

"It is late, I guess." Harry kissed him, snuggling down to go to sleep.

"Don't fall asleep."

Harry opened one eye. "M'tired, too. Why not?"

"You can't stay." At least Snape sounded as put out about it as Harry felt.

Reluctantly, Harry tried to shake off the pleasant lassitude, and find the energy to move. He hated having to get up out of a warm bed with a warm lover in it, to go back to his empty dorm bed. "School will be out soon."

"Indeed. We shall need to make some plans for the summer."

"I'm going to be staying here for a couple of weeks after the term ends so that I can make all the arrangements for everyone."

"I see. And you didn't consult me about what my plans might be." Snape stiffened beside him, sounding as if he were insulted.

Harry supposed he had a right to be. Except that Snape was his and he had expected him to go where Harry went. "What are your plans for the summer?"

"I usually stay here for a few weeks to do some research in the lab before I return to my home for the summer."

"Well, that will work out, then, won't it?"

"I expect to be consulted." Snape's tone was tense and annoyed.

Harry tried to see it from Snape's point of view, but it was hard. He had a lot of responsibilities and Snape was only one of them. "Of course. But I have more than myself to consider now."

Snape's look said he understood, but he wasn't happy about it. "How many children are you going to have?"

"It's not just children. Mrs. Weasley said she'd help. Dobby and a couple of other elves are expecting to go with me. I haven't had time to consider all of it yet." Any time he started to think about the vastness of the task he'd set for himself, Harry started to feel overwhelmed. It was so much easier to handle each thing as it came up.

"You sound like you've actually done some thinking rather than jumping in with both feet and no knowledge of how deep it is."

"I wouldn't do that," Harry prevaricated without batting an eyelash.

"Let me count the times," Snape said after an elongated snort.

Harry sat up and yawned. "Not this time. I'm going to file the papers with the Ministry on Monday morning."

"Assuming you aren't going to stay at Grimmauld Place, you'll need to find a place to live before that."

"I will? Why?"

"I doubt sincerely if Child Protective Services will give you custody of anyone without a home inspection."

"Good point. I don't suppose there's a Snape manor anywhere?"

"If there were would you expect me to turn it over to you?" There was ever so slight a note of tension in Snape's silky voice.

"I was joking," Harry was quick to say. The very last thing he wanted was for Snape to think he owed Harry anything. "I know you have that Muggle house at Spinner's End."

At Snape's surprised look, Harry laughed. "I know a lot about you. It wasn't a secret, was it?"

"No. But why would you care? Our arrangement is hardly permanent," Snape said. His expression was cold, lifeless.

Harry felt like he'd been doused in ice water. "It's not?" he said before he could call the words back.

"In time, you'll out grow your need for me. Perhaps within five years, certainly no more than ten." Snape sounded like he was looking forward to that.

Of course, he was. Snape was straight. That would preclude a permanent relationship with a man, even if he were forced into one for a time. Harry could not believe how tight his chest felt. "Do you plan to leave me after that?"

Snape shook his head, his face still without expression. "It is not me who will leave you."

Harry looked down and took a breath. "I keep forgetting. You only did this to get rid of Voldemort."

"Do not mistake sex -- no matter how enjoyable -- for more than it is. This _is_ a means to an end. Nothing more."

"Except the end already happened," Harry pointed out, feeling sick to his stomach.

"If you're going to go on about my leaving you to founder, please do not. I've heard it all before and I'm quite tired of it." Snape's whole attitude was exasperated and annoyed.

Harry could understand that. He'd hate to be in a situation so far out of his control. "I'm sorry. I know you're straight --"

"Potter...Harry," Snape said, his voice softening. "Being straight or not is the least of this."

He looked at him, trying to gauge Snape's mood. "I thought it was why you don't want to stay with me."

"Somewhere in this convoluted conversation, I know I said that it is you who will leave me," Snape said with an exasperated sigh.

"Why would I do that?" Harry was confused. Snape seemed to be saying two different things and he didn't know which one to believe.

"You are young and will surely meet someone better suited to you." Snape's tone was perfectly flat as if he were hiding emotions Harry could not understand.

"So, it's all up to me?" That made Harry feel so much better. He hoped by the time his power was under his own control, Snape might want to stay with him.

Snape's sigh, however, was long-suffering. "When is it ever anything else?"

Harry was not going to answer that, not in a million years. He chuckled. "So, was there a Snape manor, I mean ever?"

"There was a Snape Castle. It still exists in fact, but it hasn't been in my family for many generations." And there was clearly a bitter story there somewhere.

"Would you like to have it back?"

Snape looked at him closely, as if assessing whether or not Harry were serious. "No, I'd rather live in a place with no history to me. I'd also much prefer a wizard home to a Muggle one."

Harry wondered why it would matter, but nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Mr Malfoy can no doubt help you with that, too."

"Malfoy's just a bit too helpful. I don't want to take more from him than I have to."

"No doubt that is wise, but I do believe he is sincere. Or as sincere as he can be given who he is."

"I'll take that under advisement. I suppose I should go."

"Yes." Snape sat up and watched him dress.

"I'll see you later." Harry came back to the bed and kissed Snape one last time.

* * *

  


Harry had almost made it to the side stairs that led out of the dungeons when he saw Malfoy leaning against the wall. Although he'd been quiet under his cloak, Harry knew by the look of him that Malfoy had been waiting for him and knew he was coming.

"Potter," Malfoy said. "I know you're there. I heard your footsteps."

Harry froze, breathing shallowly, his heart pounding so loud he wondered if Malfoy could hear it. He backed against the wall, hoping if he were quiet....

"I heard the door to Snape's private quarters close, too. I know it was you."

Harry wondered just how he knew that, and how long he'd been waiting there to catch him.

"Give it up, Potter. I just want to talk to you," Malfoy said, like he had some reason to be exasperated by Harry's not wanting to talk to him.

Where did he get off acting like he had any say in anything, Harry wondered. He knew he'd need to talk to Malfoy eventually, but not tonight. He was tired and he knew he reeked of sex and probably, for the truly discerning nose, of Snape.

With a sudden jerk forward, Malfoy reached out and tried to feel for the cloak. Too close, and Harry had no place to retreat to. He edged backward along the wall.

Malfoy reached out again, and this time he caught the edge of the cloak, pulling down the hood. Harry was ready to punch him.

"Can't you ever leave well enough alone?" Harry snarled.

"Not usually," Malfoy smirked. "Why didn't you just tell me you were there?"

"Because I didn't want to talk to you, and I still don't." Harry pulled away, ready to pull the hood up.

"Wait a moment. We do need to talk," Malfoy said quickly, sounding like it did matter.

Harry could not imagine what could be so important. "It's after curfew. We don't need to do it now."

"I'm a prefect. I can be out of my common room after hours."

Why was Malfoy pushing so hard? Maybe he just wanted to annoy Harry. That would be so like the Malfoy he knew and understood. "Well, I'm not and I can't. So, why don't you just let me go?"

"There are a lot of details to take care of tomorrow. If we can agree to some of them tonight, we can get more accomplished." Oh, how efficient he sounded, so bloody helpful. It was completely surreal.

Harry wondered what he was up to. "I can't see how a few hours would matter so much."

"Do you want a place to live? Have you thought about where you'd like it? If I send out an owl in the morning, we can do a walk through on a few places tomorrow afternoon."

"How exactly are we supposed to get out of the school?" Harry was fairly certain that he could get McGonagall's permission if he needed to. Or as a last resort, he could appeal to Snape.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend. We'll use the floo at The Three Broomsticks."

It wasn't in him to point out that was against the rules. The reality was that he needed a place for everyone to live. "I need a big place."

Malfoy nodded, as if he'd expected that. "I assume that finances are not an issue."

"Not a huge one." Harry's vault at Gringotts seemed to be more full rather than less each time he went into it. That wasn't even taking into account what Sirius had left him.

"All right. I'm sure I can find you at least two, maybe three houses to look at tomorrow."

"Hermione and Ron will be coming with me."

Malfoy looked like he might protest, but he just shook his head. "What about Professor Snape?"

"Why would he care?" Harry knew he would, but there would be time for him to show Snape the house before he bought it. It might be easier if Snape went with them, but it would cause a whole host of problems that Harry didn't even want to think about.

Malfoy gave him an incredulous look and opened his mouth, probably to say something that would severely annoy Harry.

He waved a hand to stop him. "Don't. Okay. Just don't."

"Fine."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care at all?" Harry could not bring himself to consider trusting Malfoy, and the more helpful he was the less inclined Harry became.

"I told you. It's in my best interest. And I want --"

"Don't say it again." Harry had an uneasy feeling in his gut every time Malfoy mentioned his interest in Hermione. "A couple of years ago, you were calling her a jumped up Mudblood. Just last year, in fact, you were calling her worse."

Malfoy looked down and his over-abundance of confidence seemed to falter. Rather badly. He cleared his throat and pushed a hand through his hair. "I've learned a lot since last year."

"Enough to stop thinking of her that way?" Whatever happened over the summer, and Harry knew it must have been dreadful, he could not believe that a Malfoy could come that far, not even this Malfoy.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, there is still some part of me that retains my father's prejudices. I know it's wrong, but it was how I was raised." Malfoy would not meet his eyes.

Feeling absurdly justified, Harry fought back the urge to hit him. "Then how--"

"Can't I want her?" Malfoy asked, his tone very serious.

Too outraged to speak, Harry nodded.

"She is the brightest, most powerful witch in several generations. Do you think I haven't noticed that?"

It finally made sense, and Harry hated him for it. "There is no way to know if it would breed true."

"From what I've studied of wizarding genetics -- and I've researched it thoroughly -- if she were to have children with a pureblood there's a very high probability that she'd have a very powerful wizard child."

"You're serious," Harry sputtered. Hermione would not like being used as a brood mare. As a matter of fact, Harry was sure that when he told her, she'd kill Malfoy. He was looking forward to it.

"Very. She is my best options for powerful Malfoy children and I'm her best option to become Minister of Magic."

Harry found his mouth hanging open.

"Consider that the number of squibs and near squibs in most pure blood families has been doubling and tripling in every generation. We are too inbred. It has to end." And then Malfoy smiled, and Harry saw something in his eyes that he'd never expected to see when Malfoy talked about Hermione.

"Add to that Granger is gorgeous and finely built. It won't be a hardship to wed her, I promise you that." Malfoy meant it. His tone didn't just sound sincere, it rang with earnestness, lust, and genuine appreciation.

Harry was having a hard time processing that, not coming from Malfoy. "Do you think she is going to care for the way you're thinking of her?"

"I'm not going to swear undying love without feeling it. I do hope we get to that; however, you asked me for a reason. I've given you several. Even you have to be able to see that she's quite beautiful."

"I hadn't noticed." Actually, Harry had noticed that her body had blossomed in the last couple of years, but in an off-handed kind of way. Rather like how he'd noticed Ron's body, which had also filled out nicely.

"You must be blind," Malfoy said. "Or completely gay."

"Neither, actually. I don't look at her that way. Ron either." To Harry, they were both off-limits sexually. He needed them much more as friends.

Malfoy gave him a speculative look. "I've been wondering about you and --"

"Don't go there. Okay. If we're going to work together or do anything, you can't mention that," Harry said, wishing the stupid prat would take a hint and stop bringing it up. What was the bloody fascination?

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Malfoy protested.

Harry glared at him, starting to lose patience. "Don't."

"Fine. I do want Granger."

"You're on your own there. She'll accept you or not, as she chooses." But Harry was thinking not.

"I think that helping you will further my cause with her."

Harry supposed it would at that. "You might try courting her. She's a girl, after all. They like that sort of thing." It would also be fun to watch her throw Malfoy's attempts back into his face. If she did. Harry was still pretty horrified by what happened between her and Malfoy in the Great Hall. "I doubt she would marry someone she didn't love."

For once Malfoy looked thoughtful, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. "That would make things more complicated. I'm not averse to it." He looked right at Harry. "Do you love him?"

No circumstances existed where he would discuss the answer to that question with Malfoy. Not that he had an answer to it anyway. "Malfoy. Don't you know when to shut up?"

Malfoy had the audacity to smile at him. "Clearly not. Because I think he would need that over the long haul."

"You have no idea who I'm involved with, if anyone at all." But Harry could hear the prevarication in his tone and knew that Malfoy could, too.

"Potter, don't be stupid. Of course I know. With the way he felt about you and the fact that he is straight, I would never have believed you could convince him to even give it a single shot. I'm wondering how you did it. Did _you_ court him?"

Harry wondered if Malfoy thought he could wear him down with the constant questions and at some point Harry would answer. "What part of none of your damned business don't you get?"

"You're a student. More than that, you're a male student. On top of that you're Harry bloody Potter. I can't wrap my mind around the how or the why of it." Malfoy never learned to quit while he was ahead.

"It's none of your concern." Harry tried to put a warning in his voice, but Malfoy wasn't listening.

"Come on, tell me h--"

"I think you need to stop now," Harry said, using a bit of the voice enhancement spell.

Malfoy paled and took a step back. Then he straightened his shoulders and looked furious that he'd done it.

A tiny rush went through Harry and it scared him as much as he liked it. Harry closed his eyes, vowing not to do it again, but he knew even as he said it that he was lying.

"I have to go." Harry pulled up his hood and hurried away.

* * *

  


Part 13

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Malfoy out of the fireplace of the last house they were going to look at. They landed in a huge empty sitting room. The floors were polished hardwood, and the walls spotless white plaster. Unlike the other two houses, which had been nice, this one felt more than that. Harry knew he was going to like it.

"Let's look around," Ron said eagerly, then heading out towards the entrance way.

"There's a kind of something..." Hermione trailed off, running her hand along the wooden banister that led to the first floor.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling power beneath the nice feeling. Nothing threatening, quite the opposite, in fact. It was disconcerting just the same. He turned to Malfoy. "What is it?"

"The house likes you." Malfoy shrugged as if it were no big deal. Then, he glanced at Harry. "You haven't been in many wizarding houses, have you?"

This would have been a perfect place for a dig, and yet Malfoy sounded inquiring rather than superior. "No. Aside from Ron's house and Grimmauld Place, I've only stayed at the Leaky Caldron once or twice."

"And Black's house always felt...unwelcoming?" Malfoy phrased it as a question but it was clear that he knew about the house.

Harry nodded. "What does it mean?"

"That the house will accept you as owner," Ron said, glancing up the stairs, looking eager for some reason.

Harry tilted his head and studied Ron. He seemed... Harry wasn't sure. "Ron? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I like the way the house feels. It's nice that it's so accepting of us." Ron started up the stairs.

Harry agreed that it felt nice, but he wasn't sure he _liked_ that. As he thought it, he could feel the house warm to him even more. "Hermione?"

"It won't hurt us. It's like Hogwarts. It will accommodate itself to us. Let's look around." She seemed eager, too.

They followed Malfoy through the whole house, from the attic to the sub-basement, astonished at the size and the warmth. Harry knew they were going to need all the room they could get. There were also a couple of outbuildings, one of which could be used for a primary school.

"What do you think?" Harry asked Hermione and Ron when they returned to the main entrance hall.

"I like it," Ron said, but that had been pretty obvious as he went through it. "It's structurally sound, but I expected that. Also, I'm not the one who is going to have to live here."

"You're going to be working here. And if you wanted to live here, you could."

"I'm going to stay with my mum for a while this summer. And she's going to be coming here regularly, too." Ron's expression showed his concern for his mum, and Harry shared it.

"It will be good for her to get out," Hermione said. "I like the house. I think that huge room on the first floor will make an excellent library."

Harry laughed at her enthusiasm. It made him feel good that she was so pleased. "I expect you'll take care of everything with that?"

"I am going to love living here." Hermione's smile grew.

"At least for a while," Malfoy added with a sly smile. "Formal wizarding courtships take at least a year to do properly."

"Don't even think it, Malfoy," Hermione said, tartly, but it was plain she was trying to keep a straight face. "I've agreed to nothing."

"You said you'd go to dinner with me next weekend."

Ron looked flabbergasted. "What?"

That was a shock to Harry, too. "What about revising for your NEWTs?"

"It's dinner. Nothing more, I promise you." Hermione sounded defensive as she glared at Malfoy.

"As you say." Malfoy bowed slightly. "So, do you want it, Potter?"

"Yes. I think it suits nicely. What do I need to do to buy it?" Harry also needed to take Snape through it before he signed anything.

Malfoy explained the procedure. It was mostly a matter of drawing up the appropriate papers, having the new and old owners sign them, and then transferring the funds. Everything would need to be filed with Office of Housing.

"Even with the slowness of the Ministry these days, you should be able to move in within a week or two of leaving school."

"Won't it take a while to get furniture and stuff for the house?" The number of things Harry knew about having a house was far less than the number of things he didn't know. It was daunting in the extreme.

"Most of that can be handled by Owl order," Hermione said. "We can also have some of it delivered from Hogsmeade stores."

"It will all be there when we get there?" That sounded wonderful to Harry. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Weasley to supply him with a lengthy list of everything he needed. Or maybe he should just set up an account for her and let her decide.

"Yeah. Pretty much. How many kids, total?" Ron asked.

"Eleven. Jadrick and his two brothers. Three other Slytherins and two of their siblings. One Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws. It's only for the summer that we'll be so crowded."

"We won't be. Not in this place. There's more than enough room for all of them and a few more." Hermione smiled at that.

"And there probably will be more," Malfoy said.

"That's enough to start with." Harry wasn't sure he knew what he was going to do with all of them all summer as it was. He'd figure it out, he supposed.

"How much supervision?" Hermione asked.

"Quite a lot, actually. Mrs. Weasley is setting it up for me." Harry was so grateful she was on board with this. But he supposed that it gave her something new to focus on. Once school was out...she would need a distraction.

"How are you paying for this?" Malfoy's tone was perfectly bland, casual even.

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say it was none of his business, but he bit it back. Malfoy was...if not an ally quite yet, then certainly not the enemy any more. "Right now, Jadrick and the others are all insisting on contributing some amount. I've made it small because I really don't need it. I'm going to ask for donations at some point, but again, I don't need to do it right now. I think that the school will pay for itself."

Harry had got an accounting of all of his assets, and the sum his parents had left him was staggering. Added to that was the vast Black holdings, which were more than that; Harry was fairly certain he could finance this forever without getting a knut from anyone.

"Feeding eleven children for two months; do you really have unlimited funds?" The note of amusement in Malfoy's voice saying that he knew just how much eleven children ate.

It was starting to disconcert Harry. "I don't have to worry about it, no."

"Allow me to help, anyway. Malfoy assets _are_ nearly limitless. And I'd like to."

Harry thought about it for one second. "I won't be beholden to you for anything, Malfoy."

Malfoy managed to look offended. "Of course not. I'm just trying to help you feed the children. No ulterior motive. I want to help."

A sincere Malfoy made Harry's stomach twist with unease. It went against everything Harry knew about him. However, he didn't want to alienate him, either. "Fine."

* * *

  


"So, what do you think?" Potter asked as they returned to Snape's quarters after walking through the house Potter was thinking of purchasing.

Snape looked at him. In truth, he hadn't realized quite the extent of Potter's fortune, or that he had been that serious about the whole venture. That was short-sighted of him, wasn't it? "It will suit your needs. If you wish it to. A magical house will be more accommodating than a Muggle one. Beyond that, I don't think my opinion matters a great deal."

"It does to me. You're going to be living there, too. At least, some of the time." Potter sounded as if he were expecting an argument and had his defenses marshaled.

"As long as it isn't actively hostile, I'm amenable to any place. One so fine as this shall not be a hardship to live in." Snape wasn't going to admit how much he liked a bit of luxury in his life.

"Yeah, I guess after Spinner's End--"

Indignation flooded through him. "What is wrong with my home? You've never even been there. Have you?"

"I've been by it, just to see it. And well, it's not in the best neighborhood." Potter sounded as if he were backtracking.

As well he should. "It is mine. I'm rather fond of it. I have no intention of giving it up." It was his one refuge from the world and no one, not even Potter, could take it from him.

"I didn't mean to insult you, or to imply that you had to give it up. I'm sorry." Potter looked down. "What about the trade with Scrimgeour?"

The change in subject didn't surprise Snape. He held up a bit of parchment. "I have the locations of at least four of the Death Eaters that were in Hogsmeade with the Dark Lord."

Potter flopped on the sofa on his belly and then winced. "We have to do something about this sofa. How do we set up the meeting?"

Leaving the sofa comment alone, Snape said, "We will find a way to get the Minister to neutral ground."

"Why don't we just go straight into his office?"

Snape winced. "You don't know much about strategy, do you? Begging an audience is _not_ the way to establish dominance."

Potter smirked at him. "I was thinking of Apparating right into his office, not going through his secretary."

"That would be effective, but you've failed to take into account the small problem of the Anti-Apparition wards at the Ministry. Shoddy planning," Snape said, sitting down in the chair across from Potter's prone form.

"Actually, I haven't. I'm pretty sure I can Apparate right through them." There was a quiet confidence in Potter's tone that Snape was learning to recognize as trouble.

"I would say that most wizards -- and that would include Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord -- can't Apparate in or out of the Ministry." He looked closely at Potter. "Are you telling me you can?" Because the thought of Potter being able to do that terrified him.

"Yeah. I think so." Potter pulled his wand out of his back pocket. A second later a loud pop sounded and Potter disappeared.

Snape's heart nearly thudded to a complete stop.

"I have been practicing that," Potter said as he walked out of Snape's bedroom, smiling.

"How did you get around the Anti-Apparition wards on the school?" Snape was pleased that his voice sounded normal.

"I took them down and then put them back up as I passed." Potter's oh-so-casual tone set his teeth on edge.

However, and more importantly, the speed and power required for that was phenomenal. "That quickly?"

Potter nodded and sat down on the sofa facing Snape. "It's not that hard, really. I can see them in my mind. It's like removing a bar from a fence and then replacing it when you go through."

"Easy. I'm sure." For the most powerful wizard in the world, perhaps. For most regular wizards it was amazing and frightening. "Don't tell anyone that you can do that," Snape said. He'd rather not know himself.

"I was thinking we could go see Scrimgeour tomorrow, before I file the forms." It was a question, not an order.

"I teach tomorrow. You should not be so casual with your schooling, either. Despite who you are, it's still important that you finish school."

"I know. But it just seems like it's a waste of time now," Potter said, sounding like a typical student trying to get out of studying.

The teacher in Snape wasn't about to let him get away with that. "It's not a waste of time, Potter. I expect you to do well with your NEWTs. They will follow you all your life."

Potter's shoulders slumped and he nodded. It clearly never occurred to him to disagree, Snape was pleased to note. He was sure that would change in time.

"My last class is mid-afternoon. We shall go after that." Snape held his breath, but Potter didn't disagree.

"What if he's not there?" asked Potter.

"Oh, he'll be there. I'm quite sure of that." Snape thought, that given public sentiment, Scrimgeour was probably hiding in his office these days.

"All right. Did you know that two Slytherins and one Ravenclaw asked me to change their marks to the Phoenix mark?"

"Did you?" Snape had been asked by two of the three of them what they should do, and he'd told them to speak to Potter.

"One of them was Luis."

"I hadn't realized he was a Death Eater. But it does make sense."

"Too much sense, actually. He said he was told to do what he did -- I mean seduce me -- by his parents and they wanted to do worse, so he broke up with me rather spectacularly." It didn't sound as if that made Potter feel any better about the whole thing.

"There is some logic in that," Snape conceded, but he now wished he'd taken more points from the boy.

"Yeah. Except where it hurt me."

Snape could not bring himself to address that, even if there was a part of him that wanted to offer comfort. "What did you tell him?"

"I said I'd think about it. I don't really want anyone, but especially not Luis, tied to me. Not the way you are."

"But you want me tied to you?" Snape was uneasy with the contentment that spilled through him.

Potter looked at him and smiled. "Of course I do, you belong to me. They don't."

"What? I do not belong to you!" Snape yelled, standing and backing away. No. No. He could not allow that. The very idea filled him with equal parts of pleasure and fury. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "I think you might want to rephrase that before I say something we both might regret."

Potter blinked up at him, blushing scarlet. "I didn't mean it like that. Not exactly like that. I mean, that I'm...well...responsible for you. And I can't let anything happen to you. And I want to keep you safe."

Oh sweet Merlin, Snape thought. There was a part of him that wanted just that, to belong to someone who cared about him, who wanted to keep him safe. Someone who was much more powerful than he was. It was so seductive.

Unfortunately, Snape knew, with bitter certainty, what an appallingly bad idea that was in anything other than the abstract. "You are not responsible for me, quite the opposite in fact."

"No. I mean beyond that. Or maybe because of it. I wouldn't have let the Ministry take you, no matter what. I would have fought them for you. Don't you understand I need you?"

Snape did. But he couldn't let Potter think he was owned, even if he was. "You're digging yourself in deeper, Potter."

"Please. You have to understand. You keep me sane, and I know that. I would never let anything happen to you."

He did understand. Just as he understood that Potter needed someone to set limits for him, at least for the time being. "I appreciate that. However, I do not, and will not, belong to anyone, ever again. I did this, and continue to do this for my own freedom. Not to be enslaved in another cage, no matter how gilded you might make it."

"I don't consider you a possession or anything at all like that, but...." Potter blushed again and mumbled, "but you do belong to me."

Snape looked down and counted to ten. "I don't. I won't. I --"

"No. Please don't keep taking it wrong. I mean it in a good way."

"I'm sure you think so, but servitude of any kind --"

"No! I don't mean it like that. I don't want you to serve me, or anyone else for that matter. But you especially not. I want, need you to teach me. To help me." Potter's tone had become pleading again.

It was hard for Snape to resist it. "I won't belong to you," he whispered, sick at the thought of his own wanting.

Potter's eyes were huge. "But you do already. It's my responsibility to take care of you. And your responsibility to take care of me."

"That sounds all well and good, but --"

"No more. Please. You keep misunderstanding." He waved a hand between them. "Ron and Hermione belong to me, too. I have to have people in my life who I know I can count on."

Snape knew a losing argument when he heard one. All he could do now was blow up, and really, that wouldn't solve anything. The thought of Potter losing control was enough to stay his tongue. "Back to our discussion of the students who came to see you, you would be wise to help them. Bearing the dark mark is dangerous and clearly they are concerned about it. They have also asked."

Potter blinked at the subject change, but then nodded. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"It might be possible for you to give them a different mark."

That clearly hadn't occurred to Potter. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think the design matters, only what you put into it. But they would still be tied to me."

"Think on it, is all I am saying." Snape knew that Potter would do it, because it was the right thing to do and he did that, rather regularly.

Potter stood. "I guess I should get going. Unless...."

The most powerful wizard ever and he stammered like a school boy. Oh wait, he was a school boy. And no, Snape did not find it charming. "If you can't ask me straight out then --"

"Do you want to have sex with me? Because you know, I'd like to have sex with you." Potter sounded very serious and solemn. Until he smiled, then his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Chuckling, Snape stood up and bowed slightly. "I'd be pleased to do so, Mr Potter."

As Potter reached for him, his touch seemed firmer, his kiss more possessive. Snape was caught by the gleam in Potter's eyes. There was no denying the desire he saw or the answering desire he felt within himself. He wanted Potter.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if Potter feared there wouldn't be enough for the coming winter, that he had to hoard his share. Potter's mouth closed on Snape's, tongue invading, exploring, taking.

Snape revelled in it, savouring it. Yielding, wallowing in the sensations, allowing control to be taken from him. Long slow languid kisses were pressed onto his mouth, onto his neck, onto his chest.

Somehow, and Snape wasn't altogether sure how, he was naked, on his back, in his bed. He had no certain way of telling how he'd ended up there. He wasn't complaining. Not with Potter's mouth attaching itself to various portions of his bare anatomy. A deep moan escaped him.

Potter licked and sucked his way down Snape's chest, taking his time, being thorough in his explorations. If he'd been this studious in class, he would have been a scholar of Granger's proportions. But that was not a subject he cared to be thinking of at the moment.

His legs were pushed up to his chest. Snape grunted in discomfort as his thigh muscle bunched unpleasantly.

While one hand rubbed Snape's thigh soothingly, Potter leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of Snape's knee. "Okay?" he asked, his eyes half-lidded with lust.

"Continue," Snape ordered, appreciating that Potter had asked. He knew what was coming and he wanted it.

"Your wish...." Potter never finished the thought. And that was perfectly fine since he put his mouth to much better use.

Snape writhed on his tongue, yowling like a cat as it stabbed into him over and over until he was mindless with need. "Please. Please. Please," he whimpered, not caring at all how he sounded, only hoping for surcease of the torture.

Fingers slid into him, preparing him. The pleasure changed from sweet to sharp. Snape's head cleared as he met Potter's eyes through his spread thighs.

"You belong to me," Potter said.

And Snape could not disagree.

As Potter slid into him, the truth hit home. There was no question in his mind how much he loved this act. He loved the rub of Potter's rough skin and hair on his flesh, the smell of his sweat, and the taste of his come. And how he loved the jolty feel of Potter's hard prick pushing into his arse, raking across his prostate, igniting pleasure inside him that he never thought he'd know.

Even if he lied to the rest of the world, and Potter too, there was no lying to himself. If he never were required to do this again, he knew with bitter certainty that he would want to, at least with Potter.

Potter thrust into him, hitting that perfect spot, his rhythm pounding hard and utterly wonderful. Snape's head fell back and his eyes shut. His mind closed down completely as pleasure overwhelmed him and he surrendered himself to it.

* * *

  


"Are you quite certain you know what you're doing?" Snape was not completely confident that Potter wasn't about to get them both killed or at least badly Splinched.

"I think so," Potter said, insouciantly. "I've been practicing Apparating in and around Hogwarts."

The very thought of that made Snape shudder. "What did I tell you about not mentioning this to anyone?"

"I didn't. Really. I've been doing this alone. I had Ron or Hermione keep guard for me." Potter blinked up at him, attempting to look innocent.

Snape did not find it at all charming. He supposed that Granger and Weasley didn't count as anyone in Potter's book of rules. "Let's get on with this before I change my mind."

Potter squared his shoulders and pulled out his wand before he took hold of Snape's arm. "I guess I still need it for something. Ready. On three. One. Two. --"

As Potter said, "Three," the world blacked out and compressed and when it righted itself they had appeared in the Minister of Magic's office.

Snape opened his eyes slowly, not really believing it worked. He should have known better than to doubt Potter.

Scrimgeour looked up, startled. "What is the meaning of this? How did you get in?"

"I Apparated in," Potter said, favouring the Minister with a bland smile.

"That's impossible." Scrimgeour's face went red and then white and then green.

Snape rather enjoyed the play of colors. It served the bastard right. "I'm afraid it is possible."

"Now see here, that's not possible. And you shouldn't be here at all. There are arrest papers being issued for you right now." He opened his mouth again, probably to yell, but Potter waved a hand.

"Silencio." Potter sat down.

Scrimgeour looked like a fish with his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out.

Snape stood behind Potter's chair and put his hands on his shoulders. No point in being subtle.

Before he turned his attention to Scrimgeour, Potter reached back and patted his hand. A wave of something Snape refused to identify went through him and he smiled down at Potter's head.

"I'll release the silencing charm if you promise to listen to us." Potter's tone was conversational, friendly even.

Scrimgeour nodded and Harry waved his hand.

"It's the questioning of Professor Snape that we're here about, amongst other things," Potter said pleasantly, but with a note of authority in his voice that pleased Snape.

"You are not going to be able to protect him forever." Scrimgeour's tone sounded annoyingly admonishing.

"Actually, sir, I can. I've got something you want more." Potter held eye contact with Scrimgeour, his manner still congenial.

"Oh? What could that be?" Scrimgeour managed to school his features so that he did not look interested, but Snape could almost smell the fear on him.

"I know you want to find and capture a few Death Eaters. Make it seem like you're actually doing something here." Potter's tone had lost some of its respectfulness.

That would not do. Snape squeezed Potter's shoulder to let him know he was about to step over the line.

He heard Potter sigh. "Ahem, as I was saying, I know you're doing your utmost to capture the Death Eaters who took part in the Hogsmeade battle."

"What does that have to do --"

Potter held up his hand, cutting him off. "I'm getting to that." He drew out a piece of parchment. "I believe this will interest you."

"I won't make deals with you." Scrimgeour tried to sound bored, but he was in no position to bargain and they all knew it.

"I only want you to stop harassing Professor Snape. You have no evidence that he's done anything wrong." Potter straightened his spine and looked right at him.

"What else do you want for it?" Scrimgeour looked desperate now.

"Nothing. It's a gift." Harry smiled again, and it was completely without triumph. Snape was proud of him.

"Why would you give me this? What is this going to cost me?" Scrimgeour asked after a minutes more of silence.

"You will leave Hogwarts alone, and you will leave Professor Snape alone."

For half a minute Scrimgeour seemed to hesitate, probably trying to find a way out, but at last, he nodded. "All right."

Potter waited a beat. "There will be several applications coming through the Ministry in the next few days."

That made Scrimgeour's face brighten. Clearly he thought he'd found some wiggle room. "You want them approved? Without knowing what they are for, I couldn't --"

But Potter had learned something about negotiations and he was already shaking his head. "No, of course not. I don't expect any special privileges. I want them left alone to be processed as if they were from someone else."

Scrimgeour looked confused by this. "Why not have me --"

"Because I'm not asking you for anything special, sir. Just allow them to be processed as they would be from anyone else."

Scrimgeour deflated a bit at that. "Anything else?"

This time, Potter hesitated a second or two before he spoke. When he did, his voice was low and soft with menace. "I would think twice before I got even with any more Death Eaters through their children. That wasn't very well done of you at all."

Potter stood.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scrimgeour blustered.

"Of course not. Professor Snape," Potter said, holding out his hand.

Snape took it and when he opened his eyes again, they were back in his quarters.

"You know, of course, he's going to approve all of those applications. So that you _will_ owe him," Snape said, impressed with Potter's whole performance. Before this, he would have never thought he'd be able to carry it off.

"But since I didn't ask, I won't." Potter sounded quite self-satisfied.

Snape smiled at him. "We'll make a Slytherin of you yet."

Potter laughed. "Nah. I'm too much of an idealist Gryffindor."

"Quite true, Harry. Quite true." Snape pulled him into his arms and kissed him soundly.

* * *

  


Epilogue - 5 years later.

Snape sat in Harry's bed, waiting for him to come upstairs. He had a suite of his own, which included a potions lab designed to his exact specifications, but he rarely slept there.

It had been a long day, and he'd thought seriously of giving Minerva notice and leaving at the end of the term in two weeks. He'd been threatening to do so for the last year. The idea of opening his own apothecary appealed to him on many levels. It was as close to complete freedom as he was likely to get in his lifetime.

He looked up as the door opened, anticipation singing through him, his prick starting to fill before Harry closed the door. He'd been thinking about this all day, his desire on a slow simmer. He wanted it long and slow and hard. Harry's specialty.

"Oh, you're already in bed," Harry said, sitting down by the fire, with a pensive look on his face. "I wanted to talk to you."

Anticipation died a quick death. "Do you want me to dress?" Snape asked, carefully. He'd never thought to doubt his welcome.

"No." Harry sighed and uncharacteristically would not meet his eyes. "I do need to talk to you about something." He waved a hand for Snape to join him.

Snape's pulse started to pound, unpleasantly. Had Harry finally tired of him? It was bound to happen, of course. But he'd hoped to put it off for a little longer. Closing his eyes, he promised that he'd comport himself with dignity no matter what terms Harry dictated. He rose slowly from the bed, his gut twisting at the thought of never being in it again, and put on his dressing gown over his night shirt, thankful that he was not naked.

He joined Harry by the fire, and sat in the chair across from him, sadness washing through him. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" Snape asked, his voice as steady as he could make it, given the trembling in his body.

Harry wasn't looking at him. "I...I need to talk to you about --"

"You've said as much. Please simply say whatever it is you wish to say and be done with it." Snape could not bear to drag this out any longer. It was going to be hard enough as it was.

"I...I wish there was an easy way to say this. That it wasn't going to change everything between us." Harry still wasn't looking at him.

Snape's hope sank further and he found it difficult to breathe. He'd become too complacent. He'd let himself start to believe this would go on forever. Stupid of him, really. "Damn it, Potter. Stop this and say what you have to say so that I can go back to my rooms." And grieve over what he'd lost in private.

Harry looked up at him, surprise in his eyes, possibly something else, too. "You haven't called me Potter in a long time."

"Why are you dragging this out? It's not like you." Harry was usually better about getting unpleasant things over with as fast as possible and going on. Except there would be no going on after this. Only going away. His chest tightened again and, miserably, his eyes started to sting as well. Fabulous, now he'd really humiliate himself. What a pathetic old wizard he was.

"Because I don't want...."

To hurt him. Snape appreciated that. He really did. There would be no public humiliation over this, just a quiet parting. Harry was killing him with the kindness.

Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, seeming to draw his courage around himself. "I've been able to control my power for a while now."

"I know that," he snapped, wishing that Harry would just get to the point already.

"You know?" Harry yelled. "All this time I've been worried sick that you'd leave me as soon as I could control my magic. And you've known all along?"

Snape looked at him, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. Because what it sounded like could not be what it actually was. "Of course I've known. It's been obvious for months. _That_ is what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes. Are you going to leave me?" Harry asked, his eyes wary and scared. He really believed that Snape was planning to leave him.

A sentiment Snape could hardly credit. Where had Harry got that idea? "Didn't I tell you that it would be you who left me, not the other way around?" Snape choked out around the relief that was making him weak.

Harry's brow creased. "You did say that, but I've always thought that you would want to move on. So that you could find someone, a woman, more suited to your tastes."

"You are suited to my tastes just fine." He supposed he really should have mentioned that his tastes had changed rather radically once Harry had started to fuck him. But in his own defense, it should have been obvious, even to Harry.

For several long moments, Harry stared at him. "You bastard. You're in love with me, aren't you?"

It took him long enough to figure that out, didn't it? Snape smirked at him, but declined to say anything.

"Since when?"

He sobered and considered lying, but there was no reason. "Since a seventeen-year-old school boy took on the Ministry of Magic in my defense."

Harry looked quite gobsmacked. "Wow. But you know, that's no reason to fall in love."

"It was good enough for me." Some part of him immediately regretted admitting to it, especially since Harry hadn't said it yet.

"What about the sex? All this time, I thought you were completely straight. That you were just tolerating it because you had to."

"Stupid boy. You couldn't tell I was enjoying it? What part of my moaning and groaning did you miss?" Because really, it should not have been that easy to overlook the amount of pleasure he'd got out of their liaison.

"Most men will respond, if stimulated correctly."

"Most men in that situation don't actively seek it out. Have you completely forgotten the last five years?"

"No. But you had no choice. You've said that yourself."

He had a point, small though it was. "Not in many years. Not since the beginning, actually. There is a difference between resignation and active enjoyment. I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised that you can't tell the difference."

"I can. But you said you were straight. I've never seen you look at another wizard. Not with desire or even a bit of honest interest." Harry met his eyes. "I've seen you look at witches that way."

"I will admit that most men don't interest me." Every now and then Snape had seen one that he found attractive, but not all that often.

"See. You are straight."

"Not completely. I can't want you as much as I do, and still be straight. I believe the term you're looking for is bisexual."

"You made an exception for me?" Harry seemed quite pleased with that notion, didn't he.

"A Harry Potter exception. Doesn't that sound par for the course?" Snape laughed because it was true. He could not see himself with another wizard, only this one.

Harry's answering smile faded quickly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too young. You needed to grow up." There were other reasons, of course, like Snape expecting Harry to leave as soon as he worked out his control.

"It's not like there has been anyone else."

"There was the potential."

"Not so much. Not with you being so grumpy whenever I even mentioned going out with anyone else. Also there's the problem of having a lover making it difficult to bring anyone else home."

"You could have banished me to my own rooms." Snape shuddered at the thought of that. It had been one of his biggest fears in the first year or two. He'd been very pleased when Harry had stopped mentioning going out on dates.

"Oh, yeah. As if I'd kick you out of bed so I could sleep with someone else." Harry shook his head. "You're my lover. You have been for a long time."

"I hoped you wouldn't see me as such."

"Please. Severus. You are lying. You just said you loved me."

"Actually, I said no such thing."

Harry glared.

"I may have implied it."

"Heavily. And you do know that I love you, too."

Actually, Snape hadn't known that. "Good," he said, hoping he didn't sound as relieved as he felt.

Harry had a serious look in his eyes as he stood. He knelt in front of Snape's chair, and put a hand on his knee. "I think that it's time we made this official."

"Official? Why would I care if we are official?"

"You are the most unromantic wizard I have ever met. Official as in married."

Oh. That was a surprise. Joy very cautiously eased into Snape's heart. "Wizards can't actually marry per se. They can bond and there are several we --"

"Actually, they can marry, now."

He must have missed that. "Since when?"

"Since Hermione got Scrimgeour to sign it into law last week."

Granger was making quite the name for herself as a reformer in her work at the Ministry. And more surprising was the amount of support she was garnering as she did it. Draco's plan for her to be Minister of Magic might pan out sooner than anyone expected, including Granger herself.

"So, will you?" Harry had that impatient tone in his voice that usually annoyed Snape no end. Tonight however, he could understand it.

"Will I what?" Because really, he could understand it, but two could play this game, as well as one.

"Severus." Poor Harry looked exasperated and Snape wondered if he should put him out of his misery.

Harry rattled the windows ominously.

For a moment, Snape's heart stopped and he couldn't speak. Harry hadn't come close to losing control in years. As he stared at him, dumbfounded, Snape realized that Harry had done it on purpose. He was furious. "Don't do that again," Snape ordered, his tone firm and annoyed. "You know it will scare the children."

Sensing he'd gone too far, Harry moved from the floor to Snape's lap, his knees on either side of Snape's hips. Harry leaned down and kissed him softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Snape gathered him closer, savoring the feel of Harry in his arms. "You are an impatient boy. I would have said yes, if you'd given me another minute or two."

"So, you're not going to say yes?" Harry should not have sounded so unsure.

Snape shook his head, exasperated. "Of course I'm going to say yes, you idiot. What else would I say?"

Several long kisses followed. As Snape's hands started on the buttons of Harry's robes, the door burst open and Draco, Granger, and Weasley all hurried in.

Harry lifted his head and snapped, "What?" at the same time Snape did.

Granger put her hands on her hips, and tried to look angry, but mostly she looked relieved. "The windows."

"No one is ever going to let me forget that one slip, are they?" Harry groaned. He didn't move off Snape's lap or remove his hands from their embrace.

"Not a chance, mate." Weasley took in Harry's position and shook his head. "I'm taking it you didn't have a problem with Harry's announcement?"

Snape glared at Harry. "I'm no longer sure it's accurate."

"Hey, I did that on purpose. To make a point."

"You shouldn't make points that way," Snape said, disapprovingly. Harry really should know better.

"Fine." Harry did not look at all repentant. Not that he ever did.

"Now that you've seen that we are both fine, please leave." Snape glared at them. He wanted to get back to what they had been doing.

Harry nodded, obviously wanting the same thing. "Yeah, this is not the best time for a visit."

"Right," Weasley said, starting to back out of the room.

Unfortunately, Draco cleared his throat. He looked as if he had something pleasing to say, but Snape was nearly sure it could wait until later.

"Since we're all here now, though. Hermione and I --"

"Oh no! I hoped you'd out-grow all of this," Ron said to Hermione, looking quite scandalized.

"Not likely." Granger smiled with terrifying sweetness at Draco and his returning smile was just as disgustingly enamored. She reached out to move a lock of long blond hair off his forehead, and the sapphire ring he'd given her two years ago glittered proudly on her finger.

Draco seemed reluctant to tear his eyes away from her, but he did long enough to smirk at Weasley. "We've set a date --"

"I'm sure I'm going to be busy that day," Weasley said, sounding like an eleven-year-old who'd just been told he had a healer's appointment.

"As you and Harry are standing up for me, neither of you had better have anything to do that day."

"Weasley, grow up." Draco didn't sound angry. Weasley had been doing this song and dance for years. It was not likely to stop just because Hermione and Draco were getting married. Surprisingly, Weasley and Draco actually got on fairly well, except where Granger was concerned.

"Maybe we could make it a double." Harry looked down at him and smiled.

Weasley groaned. "Oh no, not you, too?"

"'Fraid so." Harry's smile was brilliant, warming Snape's insides nicely.

"Not all of us are wed to our jobs," Snape reminded him. Weasley had gone into the Ministry's Auror training a year late, but had also continued to run security for Harry's foundation, which had grown in scope and purpose exponentially over the years. He complained constantly about the lack of romance in his life, but did nothing to alleviate it.

"Congratulations," Draco said, inclining his head, formally. "I wish you much joy and happiness. Do you plan on a formal engagement?"

Harry shrugged, clearly not caring. "I don't know. Severus?"

"Yes." If he were going to wed, then he wanted to do it right.

"Right then. Whatever Severus wants. And speaking of that...."

"That was not very subtle." Granger smiled at him.

"I'm not subtle," Harry said.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Miss Granger?" Snape asked in his best mean teacher voice.

"Oh, Miss Granger is it? I guess we'd better get out of here before he starts taking house points."

"I've always wondered about that, you know," Weasley said as they all finally left.

"You didn't ward the door?" Snape wondered how many other times he'd forgotten to do that and who else could have walked in on them.

"There aren't that many people who can get this far down the corridor. And fewer still who would come without a good reason."

"They thought they had a good reason. Which reminds me, don't do that again. It scares the fuck out of everyone." Severus most of all.

"I won't. Promise." Harry leaned down and kissed him softly. "I'm sorry."

Snape said nothing. There really was nothing to say. He stood up with Harry still wrapped around him and maneuvered them to the bed.

Between the moment that Snape dropped him and when he hit the bed, Harry's clothes vanished. While the uncontrolled magic scared the bloody hell out of Snape, controlled power, especially that kind, did something else entirely.

"Do you know what that does to me?" Snape growled, for once not caring that his dressing gown was going to be cold and wrinkled as he shucked it off onto the floor.

"I have an idea." Harry knelt up, and took hold of Snape's hand, brining it to his mouth and kissing it.

Snape knelt on the bed next to him. His nightshirt sat primly over his knees, and Harry's hand slipped beneath it, caressing the skin of his inner thigh. He shivered as Harry's fingers danced intimately along the contours of his lower body.

"Merlin, I want you so much," Harry breathed, his fingers straying further forward, touching intimately.

"I want..." Snape forgot what he was going to say as caresses became heavier, stronger, more intense. "Oh, oh, oh, that is so good."

That was the last coherent thing Snape thought or said for a very long time.

\--finis

05/24/05-03/31/06


End file.
